Silly, Silly Book Series: Half-Blood Prince
by iheartmwpp
Summary: Because no matter how much we may love it, nothing is without flaws. Contains debate over whether using the highlighted sections in an old textbook counts as cheating, a mass of unfortunate implications, and everyone refusing to believe that Voldemort could use a teenager to spy on his two greatest enemies, one of which is also a teenager.
1. Why Doesn't Anyone Punish The Dursleys?

_A/N: Awright, part six out of seven! Let's do this! And get it over with quickly! Because I don't really like this book! It's kind of boring in too many parts and everyone's really dumb about the whole Malfoy thing when it's so obvious even Harry picked up on it! Even when I first read the book it screamed "This is just a set-up for the finale" to me! Exclamation points are radical! Okay I'll stop now..._

_A good deal of references and ideas came from another parody series that you can find on YouTube and Newgrounds called Harry Potter and the Half-Assed Parody, which covers the first eight chapters of the book. I've been listening to their work for years and couldn't not put it in, they're great, you should really check it out._

_Oh, and a slightly different minuscule joke was changed for the Archive Of Our Own story of the same name and under the same profile name because of reasons, so if you care you can go check this out on that site as well. SHRUG._

**Disclaimer:** I'm pretty sure that Nash's Dr. Strange review is the last video that will feature JewWario, and I took a line of his that made me laugh much harder than I've laughed in a long time, I forgot TGWTG reviews could be that funny sometimes. Also Dracarot has helpfully given me ideas and math equations throughout my writing process so if you like a particularly clever passage it was probably inspired by him. Harry Potter and the Half-Assed Parody is a thing, I just told you about it, and Rifftrax is also a thing, as is Starkid's Twisted. And I've been watching far too much of the Two Best Friends Play YouTube channel, Iunno, they amuse me. It's kind of fun to enhance the magical world of Harry Potter that was not written by me in any fashion with all this extraneous bullshit. X3

* * *

"A grim mood has gripped the country," the opponent had concluded, barely concealing his own broad grin.

And unfortunately, this was perfectly true. The Prime Minister felt it himself; people really did seem more miserable than usual. Even the weather was dismal; all this chilly mist in the middle of July…it wasn't right, it wasn't normal, not even for the stereotype that the United Kingdom usually presented…at least no one was prattling on about global warming, that was something to be thankful for, at least…

* * *

"We shall arrange for the President to forget to call. He will telephone tomorrow night instead," said the little man. "Kindly respond to Mr. Fudge immediately."

"Not until you tell me how you're ably to do that and what even gives you the right to do that," said the Prime Minister immediately. "It's terrifying that you lot even have the power to do that, no wonder you people stay secret, there would be panic in the streets if anyone ever got wind of the kind of machinations you're so easily able to pull off behind the scenes."

* * *

"Not to worry," Fudge had said, "it's odds-on you'll never see me again. Wizards apparently have no concept of jinxing themselves, you see. I'll only bother you if there's something really serious going on our end, something that's likely to affect the Muggles — the non-magical population, I should say."

"That sounds like a racial slur," the Prime Minister cut in crossly, finding his voice at last.

"Oh come now, my dear man," said Fudge, chortling, "just because I will forever look down upon you and treat you as condescendingly as possible, never once considering that we may be on the same level and disrespecting you at every possible turn, it doesn't mean I'm trying to _insult_ you in any way!"

"…That's like the definition of being insulting and doesn't change the fact that you are using a derogatory term to degrade myself and others like me."

"Oh get over yourself. Though I must say, you're taking it a lot better than your predecessor. _He_ tried to throw me out the window, thought I was a hoax planned by the opposition."

"My predecessor was Margaret Thatcher," said Prime Minister John Major if we're going by the timeline that puts most of this chapter in 1996. "And wouldn't Minister Bagnold have been the one to greet her, or did you also have to stop by when you became minister as well?"

"…MY HEAD IS MADE OF BUTTER."

"Huh boy."

"I'M A PRETTY POMEGRANATE."

* * *

"Oh, and I almost forgot," Fudge had added. "We're importing three foreign dragons and a sphinx for the Triwizard Tournament, quite routine, but the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures tells me that it's down in the rule book to notify you if we're bringing highly dangerous creatures into the country. Apparently the dementors last year somehow didn't count. And luckily the rules say nothing about actually giving your consent, further allowing us to just do whatever we want with you insignificant Muggles being absolutely powerless to stop us. We're really considerate to our fellow human beings like that, you know."

"Spoken like a true politician," muttered the Prime Minister. "Hang on — what — _dragons?"_

"Yes, three," said Fudge. "And a sphinx. And no, I will not be informing you when we decide to up the dragon count to four, although that Welsh Green might have been already here so maybe we didn't have to technically import it, hmm, have to think about that one…Well, good day to you."

* * *

Whatever the press and the opposition might say, the Prime Minister was not a foolish man. It had not escaped his notice that, despite Fudge's assurances at their first meeting, they were now seeing rather a lot of each other, nor that Fudge was becoming more flustered with each visit. Which is why, as soon as he saw the portrait slip behind his frame once again, he quickly installed several hidden cameras just in case something similar happened again. The Other Minister would have a hard time modifying the memories of absolutely everyone who watched the news if he ever had any footage to leak, but even if it turned out that most of the viewers just thought it was a hoax, it would at least keep Fudge's hands full.

* * *

"Good grief, so it's _your_ fault those people were killed and I'm having to answer questions about rusted rigging and corroded expansion joints and I don't know what else!" said the Prime Minister furiously.

"_My_ fault!" said Fudge, coloring up. "Are you saying you would have caved in to blackmail like that?"

"Maybe not," said the Prime Minister, standing up and striding about the room, "but I would have put all my efforts into catching the blackmailer before he committed any such atrocity!"

"Do you really think I wasn't already making every effort?" demanded Fudge heatedly. "Every Auror in the Ministry was — and is — trying to find him and round up his followers, but we happen to be talking about one of the most powerful wizards of all time, a wizard who has eluded capture for almost three decades!"

"I thought you said that you had some of these Meth Heads or Death Watchers or whatever in custody," said the Prime Minister accusingly.

"That we do, that we do."

"Well, what about standard investigative tactics? Questioning their families? Tailing their contacts? Following the money and all that?"

"Ho ho ho!" chortled Fudge, shaking his head condescendingly at the Prime Minister. "Well that hardly seems polite, doesn't it? We find we get the best results when we turn a blind eye, villainize the people with actual facts, and allow our children and our elderly to fight off the baddies. It's worked out so far, know what I mean?"

* * *

"I thought the dementors guard the prisoners in Azkaban," said the Prime Minister cautiously.

"They did," said Fudge wearily. "But not anymore. They've deserted the prison and joined He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Who would've thought the wraithy parasites that devour the happiness of others would be so easily swayed to evil, eh? Egg on my face, certainly. That's on us, don't worry about it."

* * *

…Anyone else morbidly curious about how dementor breeding even works? No? Just me then…

* * *

"Well, that's really all I had to say," said Scrimgeour. "I will keep you posted of developments, Prime Minister — or, at least, I shall probably be too busy to come personally, in which case I shall send Fudge here. He has consented to stay on in an advisory capacity, because someone who screwed everything up so spectacularly last time is exactly the kind of person we want making major decisions and continuing to get paid for his failures. Hoorah for commentary on how government employment works compared to most other jobs where if you fuck up that badly you never work again but here they still let you run the country for some reason."

Fudge attempted to smile, but was unsuccessful; he merely looked as though he had a toothache. Probably mainly because this was his last on-page appearance in the entire series and the fact that he was never mentioned again strongly implies that he was killed off-page at some point. I am not entirely opposed to this.

* * *

The harsh cry startled the fox, now crouching almost flat in the undergrowth. It leapt from its hiding place and up the bank. There was a flash of green light, a yelp, and the fox fell back to the ground, dead.

The second figure turned over the animal with its toe.

"Just a fox," said a woman's voice dismissively from under the hood. "I thought perhaps an Auror — though considering how many people are running around as animals all throughout the series it might well have been an Auror, we really shouldn't rule anything out, after all it's not paranoia if people really are out to get you—Cissy, wait!"

* * *

Snape held out a hand to stop her, then pointed his wand again at the concealed staircase door. There was a loud bang and a squeal, followed by the sound of Wormtail scurrying back up the stairs.

"My apologies," said Snape. "He has lately taken to listening at doors, I don't know what he means by it…Should probably make this room Imperturbable while we talk, or at least make it so he can't sneak down here as a rat, we keep forgetting he can do that, can't believe it was never utilized again…You were saying, Narcissa?"

* * *

"Narcissa, I think we ought to hear what Bellatrix is bursting to say; it will save tedious interruptions. Well, continue, Bellatrix," said Snape. "Why is it that you do not trust me?"

"A hundred reasons!" she said loudly, striding out from behind the sofa to slam her glass upon the table. "Where to start! Where were you when the Dark Lord fell? Why did you never make any attempt to find him when he vanished? What have you been doing all these years that you've lived in Dumbledore's pocket? Why did you stop the Dark Lord procuring the Philosopher's Stone? Why did you not return at once when the Dark Lord was reborn? Where were you a few weeks ago when we battled to retrieve the prophecy for the Dark Lord? And why, Snape, is Harry Potter still alive, when you have had him at your mercy for five years?"

She paused, her chest rising and falling rapidly, the color high in her cheeks. Behind her, Narcissa sat motionless, her face still hidden in her hands.

Snape smiled.

"Those were only seven reasons, Bellatrix."

"FUCK YOU."

"Snappy comeback."

* * *

"Draco should be proud that he has been given an impossible task to complete that, if he fails to do so, both you and Lucius the next time there's a break in will be slowly and painfully killed before he is also slowly and painfully killed," said Bellatrix indifferently.

* * *

"The Dark Lord will not be persuaded, and I am not stupid enough to attempt it," said Snape flatly. "He thinks he looks good in plaid."

* * *

Harry Potter was snoring loudly. He had been sitting in a chair beside his bedroom window for the best part of four hours, staring out at the darkening street, and had finally fallen asleep with one side of his face pressed against the cold windowpane, his glasses askew and his mouth wide open. The misty fug…is that a typo…hang on, let me look this up…dictionary dot com defines fug as stale air, which I guess could be breath, and I guess calling it misty fog _would_ be redundant…

* * *

Though Ministry spokeswizards have hitherto refused even to confirm the existence of the fabled Hall of Prophecy, a growing number of the Wizarding community believe that the Death Eaters now serving sentences in Azkaban for trespass and theft, but not for the assault and battery of several current and former Ministry employees or the attempted murder of half a dozen schoolchildren, for some reason, were attempting to steal a prophecy.

* * *

"The situation is fraught with complications," said Dumbledore. "That's not a _Twisted_ song lyric, it's the actual line in the book, look it up and don't delete this. At any rate, we do not know whether the enchantments we ourselves have placed upon Grimmauld Place, for example, making it Unplottable even though Sirius's father did that long before we got to it, will hold now that ownership has passed from Sirius's hands. It might be that Bellatrix will arrive on the doorstep at any moment even though we're reasonably sure that the Fidelius Charm that we _are_ responsible for putting on the house is still in effect and I would never dream of telling someone like that the secret location even though I just casually told your relatives without even intending to probably. WHOOPS."

* * *

Harry looked around; all three of the Dursleys were cowering with their arms over their heads as their glasses smashed against their skulls, their contents flying everywhere along with the blood and brain matter.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," said Dumbledore politely, and he raised his wand again. All three glasses vanished. "But it would have been better manners to drink it, you know."

* * *

"You would prefer Kreacher to pass into the ownership of Bellatrix Lestrange? Bearing in mind that he has lived at the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix for the past year?"

"Do Memory Charms not work on House-Elves?"

"…I have no idea. And I'm too lazy to try."

"Fantastic."

* * *

"Give him an order," said Dumbledore. "If he has passed into your ownership, he will have to obey."

"No he won't," said Harry, "he can ignore my orders any time he wants, he just has to punish himself afterward."

"…Oh. Shit."

* * *

"You did not do as I asked. You have never treated Harry as a son. He has known nothing but neglect and often cruelty at your hands. AND YOU WILL NEVER SUFFER ANY CONSEQUENCES FOR YOUR ACTIONS!" finished Dumbledore in a chipper voice, beaming widely.

"HOORAY!" cheered the Dursleys, throwing their hands in the air. Harry whimpered softly.

* * *

…The Invisibility Cloak always had to be shoved conspicuously down the front of Harry, Ron, or Hermione's robes before, how the balls can it fit into an inside jacket pocket.

* * *

"You have not, of course, passed your Appartion test," Dumbledore said.

"No," said Harry. "I thought you had to be seventeen?"

"You do," said Dumbledore. "So you will need to hold on to my arm very tightly—"

"Hang on," Harry cut in, "you can Apparate someone else who doesn't know how?"

"Well of course, Harry!"

"Then why has it never been used before when it would've been really useful to use before."

"Because."

"…"

"I'm just saying," said Dumbledore, holding up his hands in mock surrender.

"'I'm just saying' is not the most valid excuse for everything," said Harry.

"Sometimes it is."

"No."

* * *

"Lord Voldemort has finally realized the dangerous access to his thoughts and feelings you have been enjoying," said Dumbledore. "It appears that he is now employing Occlumency against you."

"Why doesn't he keep that up next year, then?" asked Harry.

"Bugger if I know."

* * *

"Well, on that leaflet, it said something about Inferi," said Harry. "What exactly are they? The leaflet wasn't very clear."

"Did you go to page ten?"

"…I did not."

'Think maybe you should've."

"Awww…"

"But anyway, they are corpses," said Dumbledore calmly. "Dead bodies that have been bewitched to do a Dark wizard's bidding."

"…So they're basically zombies."

"Oh you're just saying that because Wikipedia defines zombies as corpses that have been reanimated through magical means according to the Vodou religion."

"Which is what you just described Inferi to be, so, yeah, pretty much."

"No," Dumbledore insisted. "There are no zombies in this magical world where we can animate anything we want through magical means."

"So you call them Inferi," said Harry disbelievingly.

"Yes, the singular form of which is Inferius. _Not_ a zombie."

"That's a typo."

"In your f—What?! Typo from what?! Crombie?! Jombie?! Zimbee?!"

"All right, let's just—"

"_Zambambo?!"_

* * *

"What kind of blood was that, incidentally?" asked Dumbledore loudly over the chiming of the newly unsmashed grandfather clock.

"On the walls? Dragon," shouted the wizard called Horace, as, with a deafening grinding and tinkling, the chandelier screwed itself back into the ceiling.

"…But it was green last year, though, why's it red now."

"…Different breed of dragon, maybe?"

"I somehow doubt that…"

* * *

"Ingenious," said Dumbledore. "But it sounds a rather tiring existence for a broken-down old buffer in search of a quiet life. Now, if you were to return to Hogwarts—"

"If you're going to tell me my life would be more peaceful at that pestilential school, you can save your breath, Albus! You know that if I take a position at your school it might imply that I have something against the murder and subjugation of Muggles and mixed-bloods! Who wants that?"

* * *

"You mustn't think I'm prejudiced!" said Slughorn. "No, no, no! I just show astonishment at the fact that someone of a practically nonexistent blood status is able to achieve anything of worth!"

"…That's like the definition of being prejudiced."

"Nonsense! One _can't_ be prejudiced if they have a friend from that group, and I happen to have several, so I'm _not_ prejudiced, you see!"

"Jesus Christ..."

"And besides, you can't really talk considering your extreme prejudice against anyone from Slytherin that you ever so clearly presented to me ever since I mentioned that I used to be Head of that house. I think I'm a fairly decent example that we're not all evil, at any rate."

"…Fair enough, I'll try to work on that."

* * *

"Well, I'm sorry you don't want the job, Horace," said Dumbledore, raising his uninjured hand in a farewell salute. "Hogwarts would have been glad to see you back again, but I can see that you're doing just fine on your own and can do perfectly well without the protection that Hogwarts innately offers that will be bolstered by the presence of dozens of Aurors and will also play host to many bright young people with whom you could have made additional connections behind the scenes. Our greatly increased security notwithstanding, you will always be welcome to visit, should you wish to."

* * *

"Sirius represented much to you that you have never known before," said Dumbledore gently. "Naturally, the loss is devastating. In fact, when I picked you up, I was quite worried that you'd still be very visibly torn up over the death of someone you regarded as a parent. The actions that you took towards destroying my office especially hinted at a crapload of angst that you would need a considerable amount of time to push through."

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that," interrupted Harry. "While I was at the Dursleys', I realized I can't shut myself away or — or crack up. Sirius wouldn't have wanted that, would he? Instead, he'd want me to get over his death completely in the space of about a fortnight, entirely off-page so that the readers wouldn't have to complain about me being a whiny emo bitch instead of realizing that I'm an extremely messed up teenager who's allowed to show human emotions once and a while, except not in this book for some reason."

"Or you could just be repressing everything and are waiting to have a complete emotional breakdown until after the war's over."

"That too."

* * *

"Now, I think I am correct in saying that you have not told anybody that you know what the prophecy said?"

"No," said Harry.

"A wise decision, on the whole," said Dumbledore. "Although I think you ought to relax it in favor of your friends, Mr. Ronald Weasley and Miss Hermione Granger. Yes," he continued, when Harry looked startled, "I think they ought to know. You do then a disservice by not confiding something this important to them."

Harry gaped at him, then slowly began to tremble as the rage grew inside of him like flames.

"…You seriously have the gall to say that to _me_ after last year," he said dangerously. "Seriously."

"Indeed! One might say Siriusly, even!" Dumbledore chortled at his own joke, but it was swiftly cut off as Harry lunged at him, tore his beard off, and ripped his throat out with his teeth.

* * *

Hermione stop doing what you're doing, fuck's sake.

* * *

A young woman was standing in the doorway, a woman of such breathtaking beauty that the room seemed to have become strangely airless. She was tall and willowy with long blonde hair and appeared to emanate a faint, silvery glow. To complete this vision of perfection, she was carrying a heavily laden breakfast tray. Now, you may expect me to go on a feminist rant about that last sentence, but I happen to agree completely that few things in life are more perfect than somebody delivering you food while you're still ensconced in the warmth of your bed. ^_^

* * *

Oh hey look, proof that no one judges women more harshly than other women.

* * *

"Listen, no bloke in his right mind's going to fancy Tonks when Fleur's around," said Ron.

"So Lupin's super nuts, then?" asked Harry innocently.

"YEP."

"M'kay."

* * *

"What's this?" Hermione asked eventually, holding up what looked like a small telescope.

"Dunno," said Ron, "but if Fred and George've left it here, it's probably not ready for the joke shop yet, so be careful."

"Huh. Why didn't I drop it immediately then."

"'Cause you're an idiot," said Ron affectionately, grinning at her. Hermione turned to glare at him but ended up gazing at him fondly.

"JUST FUCK ALREADY," Harry bellowed.

And then they did, and Harry was traumatized. All was well.

* * *

"Hermione, will you shut up, you're not the only one who's nervous!" barked Ron. "And when you've got your eleven 'Outstanding' O.W.L.s…"

"Don't, don't, don't!" said Hermione, flapping her hands hysterically. "I know I've failed everything! Think of all the time I could've spent getting slightly higher grades if I weren't so busy saving the wizarding world from disaster with _you lot!_"

* * *

Harry looked back down at his results. They were as good as he could have hoped for. He felt just one tiny twinge of regret…This was the end of his ambition to become an Auror. He had not secured the required Potions grade. He had known all along that he wouldn't, but he still felt a sinking in his stomach as he looked again at that small black E. Who would have figured that he would have done so expectation exceedingly horribly in a class taught by a man who hated him on a personal level and never tried to motivate his students.

* * *

Is it because I've read too much fanfiction that I'm actually really disappointed that a bigger deal wasn't made over what would be Harry's first ever birthday party since he was one?

* * *

Seriously, where did people get that information about Regulus, he wasn't hunted down and killed by Death Eaters, he went missing and no one ever found the body considering he was drowned by a horde of zambambos.

* * *

"That Quidditch Captaincy gives you equal status with prefects for some reason!" cried Hermione. "You can use our special bathroom and everything!"

"…You saying that makes it sound like it's co-ed," said Harry slowly.

"Yep!" said Ron cheerfully. "'Cause screw those more serious fics that make two separate bathrooms for the sake of privacy and basic decency and things, who needs that when you can have possibly more than sixteen underage students in addition to the of-age ones all congregating together in one hot tub and having all the sexy times all the time?"

"That sounds responsible," Harry agreed, nodding seriously.

* * *

_A/N: Updates every Saturday until this is completed and I go on hiatus again to work on the next book. Yaaaaaaay._

**_Review or you'll be attacked by a pack of zambambos._**


	2. Date Rape's Encouraged In This World?

_A/N: Game of Thrones's fourth season just started, and I'm actually really curious as to how they're gonna adapt the fourth book, should be interesting. Of course, we still have the rest of the third book to look forward to being presented to us in live action...Obviously I'm not going to spoil anything but if you know what I'm talking about then YOU KNOW WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT OH GODS._

**Disclaimer:** Dracarot's providing ideas again, he's awesome like that. And all the references I'm including this week all come from the internet: Dragonball Z Abridged, the Two Best Friends Play channel, and Harry Potter and the Half-Assed Parody. And I really don't think JKR ever realized the flat-out horrible implications she created when she made love potions a thing; I'm not going to be talking about them as much as you might think just because I really don't want to but they will be brought up a few times in this chapter.

* * *

Diagon Alley had changed. The colorful, glittering window displays of spellbooks, potion ingredients, and cauldrons were lost to view, hidden behind the large Ministry of Magic posters that had been pasted over them. Most of these somber purple posters carried blown-up versions of the security advice on the Ministry pamphlets that had been sent out over the summer, but others bore moving black-and-white photographs of Death Eaters known to be on the loose. Bellatrix Lestrange was sneering from the front of the nearest apothecary. Wizards aren't content with giving their children nightmares, but instead wanted them to lie awake in their beds lest the night terrors trap them while they sleep in bed sheets soaked with sweat. Well, if they were lucky it would be sweat.

* * *

"What's happened to your eye, Hermione?" asked Fred.

"Your punching telescope," she said ruefully.

"…How long ago?"

"Few weeks, why, will you not be able to fix it?"

"No, we can, but…why did you not write or Floo us or something, we would've been able to send something or visit and got rid of this the day you got it."

"…Shut up."

"Huh boy."

* * *

"And then we thought we'd get into the whole area of Defense Against the Dark Arts, because it's such a money spinner," continued George enthusiastically. "This is cool. Look, Instant Darkness Powder, we're importing it from Peru. Handy if you want to make a quick escape. It's quite popular; in fact, we just sold some to Draco Malfoy! He actually came in and bought something, can you imagine it? A Malfoy, in a Weasley shop!"

"Dad was laughing his arse off for ages when we told him," agreed Fred. "And I'm absolutely sure selling something so useful to someone with connections to known and escaped Death Eaters will have absolutely no negative consequences of any kind!"

"Unless he also imported it from Peru because he probably still has that kind of money even after the thing with Lucius and we had nothing to do with it…"

"I like that theory, it makes us less guilty-looking and we can blame the Ministry further for refusing to keep tabs on obviously suspicious people, let's go with that explanation."

* * *

"There you go," said Fred proudly. "Best range of love potions you'll find anywhere."

"I really must protest to you selling date rape drugs in a place that's supposed to be comedic in nature," said Hermione reprovingly, "this is really serious."

"Wait, _date rape drugs?"_ said Fred, staring at her in utter confusion.

"What _are_ you talking about?" George backed him up.

"Yeah, they're perfectly safe!" insisted Ginny, causing Hermione to whip around and stare at her in horror. **"**All they do is cause whoever drinks them to lose their inhibitions entirely as they are forced to see whoever gave it to them in a way they wouldn't otherwise after imbibing it and may cause them to do something they'll severely regret and be ashamed of for the rest of their lives!"

"…Which is the _exact definition of a date rape drug," _Hermione explained slowly._ "_Ginny, come on, why aren't you more concerned about this?!"

"Because Love Potions are decidedly feminine products, blokes would rarely use them, and our society is so hopelessly behind the times that we probably still think Rape Is Okay When It's Female On Male," said Ginny simply.

"No, rape is bad in _all_ forms," said Hermione firmly. "I can't believe this was never addressed in any way in the series whatsoever, this is terrible."

"Children's book," said Fred, George, and Ginny in unison.

"Oh that's your excuse for everything."

* * *

Oh yes, Fred and George, you're such likable characters, please do continue slut shaming your sister, I can clearly see why everyone adores you so. -_-

* * *

"That's three Galleons, nine Sickles, and a Knut," said Fred, examining the many boxes in Ron's arms. "Cough up."

"I'm your brother!"

"And that's our stuff you're nicking. Three Galleons, nine Sickles, I'll knock off the Knut."

"But I haven't got three Galleons, nine Sickles!"

"You'd better put it back then, and mind you put it on the right shelves."

"…You two may be rolling in gold now, but even with Dad's new promotion we're not doing as well as we could be, and I don't really see you two helping out at all. You lived with us for seventeen years, you should know exactly what it's like to not really be able to afford things, and you should know exactly why I don't have a lot of money to spend. So I will reiterate: _How much for your younger brother who's still living off practically nonexistent Weasley pocket money_."

"Well sir, if you're having a problem with our customer support, you can call 1-800-EAT-A-DICK."

"I will literally profit from your dead bodies."

* * *

Mrs. Weasley moved aside to look at the Pygmy Puffs, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione momentarily had an unimpeded view out of the window at the exact moment Draco Malfoy was hurrying up the street alone. TIMING!

* * *

"Maybe he's broken his Hand of Glory," said Ron vaguely, as he attempted to straighten his broomstick's bent tail twigs. "Remember that shriveled-up arm Malfoy had?"

"…I remember Malfoy _looking_ at it in Borgin and Burkes four years ago," said Harry slowly. "I also remember his father talking sternly to Borgin for even suggesting that Draco own it since he was basically implying that Draco was no better than a common thief. I don't remember telling you about that unless I actually did and the narrative just summarized it, nor do I ever remember a scene anywhere in the septology or the films where Malfoy was actually physically holding it. So I have to ask: What the fuck are you talking about."

"…We need to set this up now so he can be seen holding it later."

"That could've been handled SO MUCH BETTER THAN BLATANTLY MAKING SHIT UP."

"We can't, there's no time!"

"Aw, fuck this."

"Yeah, it's not great."

"It's really not!"

* * *

"He's a Death Eater," said Harry slowly. "He's replaced his father as a Death Eater!"

There was a silence; then Ron erupted in laughter. _"Malfoy?_ He's sixteen, Harry! You think You-Know-Who would let _Malfoy_ join?"

"Voldemort was sixteen when he killed Moaning Myrtle," said Harry, "and it's a perfect age for people to completely underestimate you."

Ron and Hermione exchanged another look.

"I'm not sure, Harry…"

"Yeah, I still don't reckon You-Know-Who would let Malfoy join…"

"He'd be in a perfect position to act as a spy in a school where Voldemort's greatest enemies are headmaster and in Malfoy's year, why _wouldn't_ he take this chance? And all of us were quick to assume he was evil four years ago; we've basically been waiting for something like this to happen since we met the guy! Why aren't you guys even _considering _this?!"

"Because we've been wrong every time so far?" said Ron.

"What are you talking about?" said Harry.

"Snape wasn't after the Stone," Hermione listed off, "Malfoy _wasn't _the Heir of Slytherin, Sirius was innocent, Karkaroff didn't put your name in the Goblet—"

"Neither did you, I was wrong about that too," Ron cut in.

"—and _Sirius wasn't at the Department of Mysteries,"_ Hermione finished, giving Harry a pointed look. Harry looked back at her in silence.

"…I was trying to head _away_ from that topic…" Ron muttered.

Harry snatched up a pile of filthy Quidditch robes and left the room.

"…Too soon?" Hermione asked. Ron thwacked her upside the head.

* * *

"She has let 'erself go, zat Tonks," Fleur mused, examining her own stunning reflection in the back of a teaspoon which why would she not have a tiny mirror since even Hermione had one that one time what even is. "A big mistake if you ask—"

"Go fuck yourself, Phlegm," said Mrs. Weasley tartly.

* * *

HOW DOES NO ONE NOTICE TWO DUDES WHO ARE CLEARLY SOME KIND OF SECRET SERVICE TYPE GUYS ESCORTING A FAMILY OF PEOPLE, AND HOW DOES NO ONE SEE THE LOT OF THEM JUST RANDOMLY DISAPPEAR THROUGH A BRICK WALL. _HOW. __**THAT SHIT USUALLY ATTRACTS SOME ATTENTION.**_

* * *

Harry had thought it through carefully and came to the conclusion that, if he was to tell anyone, Mr. Weasley was the right person; firstly, because he worked at the Ministry and was therefore in the best position to make further investigations, secondly because he thought that there was not too much risk of Mr. Weasley exploding with anger, and thirdly he was a trusted adult who was experienced with magical objects of a suspicious nature and could actually do something about it.

* * *

"There's something else. We saw Malfoy jump about a mile when Madam Malkin tried to touch his left arm. I think he's been branded with the Dark Mark. I think he's replaced his father as a Death Eater."

Mr. Weasley looked taken aback. After a moment he said, "Did you actually _see_ his Dark Mark, Harry?"

"No, but—"

"Then there's nothing we can do! It's not as if we can have an Auror ask the son of a convicted Death Eater to do something as simple as roll up his left sleeve to exonerate himself!"

"Oh come the smeg on!"

* * *

"Quibbler still going strong, then?" asked Harry, who felt a certain fondness for the magazine because of reasons everyone's aware about so why are you recapping things now when you've been doing so well aside from that one time where you just blatantly made shit up.

* * *

"Are we still doing D.A. meetings this year, Harry?" asked Luna, who was detaching a pair of psychedelic spectacles from the middle of _The Quibbler_.

"No point now we've got rid of Umbridge, is there?" said Harry, sitting down. Neville bumped his head against the seat as he emerged from under it. He looked most disappointed.

"Why not? Just because you met the newest professor doesn't mean you know he'll be any good, even if he _was_ teaching Defense! Shouldn't we all keep up the practice, maybe expand it into an actual school club so everyone in the school can learn to defend themselves properly from a teacher that twenty-five of us can vouch for as actually being competent? Shouldn't we do our part to prepare for the _war_ we're currently embroiled in?!"

"Yeah but I'm Quidditch captain though," said Harry, showing off his badge.

"Oh, well that's all right, then."

* * *

Fucking shite, Augusta, stop talking already.

* * *

Had Voldemort chosen Neville, it would be Neville sitting opposite Harry bearing the lightning-shaped scar and the weight of the prophecy…Or would it? Would Neville's mother have died to save him, as Lily had died for Harry? Surely she would…But what if she didn't have anyone to beg Voldemort to spare her life for her? Would Voldemort not have even given Alice a chance to plead for her son's life, thus making sure that no magical blood protection of love could be cast over the infant? Could _that_ be why Snape hated Neville so much?!

* * *

"Wish the lunch trolley would hurry up with its candy, I'm starving and copious amounts of pure sugar will definitely fill me up, not make me nauseous right before the feast, and won't leave me ill for the next couple of days," said Ron longingly, slumping into the seat beside Harry and rubbing his stomach. "Hi, Neville. Hi, Luna. Guess what?" he added, turning to Harry. "Malfoy's not doing prefect duty. He's just sitting in his compartment with the other Slytherins, we saw him when we passed."

Harry sat up straight, interested.

"It's not like Malfoy to pass up the opportunity to show off his power as a prefect, he had enough fun abusing that all the previous year," he commented.

"Eh, I'm sure him acting in a way that completely contradicts what we're used to doesn't mean he's up to anything suspicious," said Ron indifferently.

"WHY DO I HANG OUT WITH ANY OF YOU."

"I believe you, Harry!" said Luna, hitting herself in the head repeatedly. "Hang on a sec, that's one clingy Wrackspurt, I'll get rid of it in a moment…"

Hermione looked smug. Harry kicked her in the shin.

* * *

But before Harry could expound on his theory, the compartment door slid open again and a breathless third-year girl stepped inside.

"I'm supposed to pretend to be an owl and deliver these to Neville Longbottom and Harry P-Potter without questioning why we're delivering messages like this all year," she faltered, as her eyes met Harry's and she turned scarlet.

* * *

The corridors, which were packed with people on the lookout for the lunch trolley, were impossible to negotiate while wearing the cloak. Harry stowed it regretfully back in his bag, reflecting that it would have been nice to use it just to avoid all the staring, particularly when the stares went from his forehead to his bag and he was bombarded with questions about the silvery fabric everyone just saw him try to put away.

* * *

"What's wrong with this thing?" said Zabini angrily as he smashed the sliding door repeatedly into Harry's foot. "And what's with all the grunts of pain coming from the clear space of air in front of me?"

Okay, how the hell do you not immediately assume foul play when a door refuses to close and then jerks open again in a MAGICAL FUCKING WORLD.

* * *

"And you think _you'll_ be able to do something for him?" asked Zabini scathingly. "Sixteen years old and not even fully qualified yet?"

"I'll be sharing a load of classes with the boy he hates most and will frequently cross wands with him in the corridors as usual," said Malfoy lazily. "It'll be easy to get a reading on his habits and level of skill, not to mention finding out who all his friends are…"

"Couldn't Snape do that, though?"

"A fellow student has more freedom to do this sort of thing than a teacher, methinks."

"Ah, true."

* * *

Harry was so busy staring at Malfoy, he did not notice Goyle reaching up for his trunk; as he swung it down, it hit Harry hard on the side of the head. He let out an involuntary gasp of pain from possibly yet _another_ bloody concussion, and Malfoy looked up at the luggage rack, frowning.

Harry was startled. Did Malfoy know he was there? How could he have seen through Harry's ninja-like stealthleness and sneak?!

* * *

"You didn't hear anything I care about, Potter. And even if you did, no one would believe you and nobody — _nobody _— will think to ask me to see my left arm. But while I've got you here…"

And he stamped, hard, on Harry's face. Harry felt his nose break; blood spurted everywhere.

"That's from my father. Now, let's see…"

Malfoy dragged the cloak out from under Harry's immobilized body.

"And now, even though my plans can only benefit from the stealth this cloak would give me, I'm going to drape it over you so that nobody will find you until this train gets back to London. Maybe…OMFG, I have _got _ to contact the Dark Lord straightaway! Fuck killing Dumbledore, imagine what he'd do if I presented _you_ to him! This is brilliant, I can't believe I didn't think of it earlier!" He began to roll up his left sleeve, then stopped. "The Dark Lord wouldn't appreciate it if I called him here, so close to Hogwarts…I better get an owl to him as quickly as I can, hopefully it'll make it through Hogwarts' new security…Damn, putting exactly which train car thing he's in is gonna be a bitch to put into code…"

He threw the cloak over Harry and, taking care to tread on Harry's fingers, Malfoy left the compartment.

* * *

Having always traveled there by carriage, Harry had never before appreciated just how far Hogwarts was from Hogsmeade Station. Granted, they could've got to the gates far sooner if a witch of Tonks's talents had just enchanted a crate or something lying around the train station to fly them up to the gate, but they always had to do things the hard way.

* * *

_**GO FUCK YOURSELF, SNIVELLUS.**_

* * *

…The guy's covered in blood, dude, you might want to at least interrogate him about that even if you have no plans to punish Malfoy. Come to think of it, why didn't Harry bring this to a professor who would actually listen, especially since it'd be spread all over the school quickly enough. They're in a _war_, the consequences for leaving someone so high-profile immobilized and helpless on a place where anyone can get to him have to be at least a week of lines or something, never mind another student flat-out assaulting someone; and even if he _was_ never found until someone tripped over him, he could've starved to death. Once again, children at Hogwarts are getting away scot-free with attempted murder, though at least we can't say that everyone solely favors Gryffindor kids anymore. Though this might further teach kids who're trying to be Death Eaters that killing is easy and fun and has no repercussions. YAY FOR LEARNING NEW THINGS AT HOGWARTS.

* * *

"…and Mr. Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to say that there is a blanket ban on any joke items bought at the shop called Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. This may or may not extend to the Self-Inking Quills and pimple vanishers, it's unclear, he did say _joke_ items, and this rule _certainly_ doesn't apply to perfumes or cough potions, that'd just be silly…On second thought a blanket ban on all products may not be such a bad idea…"

* * *

"I implore you, should you notice anything strange or suspicious within or outside the castle, to report it to a member of staff immediately. The slightest suspicious act, when investigated, could result in saving someone's life," Dumbledore added with importance. "Except if it's Draco Malfoy. If you see Draco Malfoy doing anything suspicious, just ignore it and go on with your day. Assume that Draco Malfoy is harmless. I can't stress this enough."

* * *

Harry had expected Ron to be stunned by Malfoy's boasts. With what Harry considered pure pigheadedness, however, Ron was unimpressed.

"Come on, Harry, he was just showing off for Parkinson…What kind of mission would You-Know-Who have given him?"

"Spying on me and Dumbledore, possibly trying to find a way to smuggle me out of the castle so Voldemort can get at me like he might've just inadvertently tried on the train, gathering information at Hogwarts in general, finding out about the new security measures from the inside…" Harry listed off impatiently.

"Oh that's just silly, you silly."

"The fuck are you all being so stupid this year."

"'Cause this book's more of a setup for the finale than anything else?"

"I guess…"

* * *

"I thought you'd get that, well done," Katie called over, pointing at the Captain's badge on Harry's chest. "Tell me when you call trials!"

"Don't be stupid," said Harry, "you don't need to try out, I've watched you play for five years…"

"You mustn't start off like that," she said warningly. "For all you know, there's someone much better than me out there. Good teams have been ruined before now because Captains just kept playing the old faces, or letting in their friends…"

"Then why didn't Oliver and Angelina do something similar?"

"Because we need the drama of Ron versus McLaggen not only on the field but with Hermione."

"But that's like the most annoying part of the book."

"Exactly, this subplot's completely vital to all the things."

"It's really not, though."

* * *

…Jesus, Snape should've included, like, ten different trigger warnings in the class description or something before they even came into the room.

* * *

"Harry! Hey, Harry!"

Harry looked around; Jack Sloper, one of the Beaters on last year's Gryffindor Quidditch team and someone so inconsequential that I actually don't mind getting a refresher this time, was hurrying toward him holding a roll of parchment.

"Dumbledore's getting so old that he mistook me for an owl and told me to give this to you," he panted.

* * *

Harry, Ron, and Hermione spent the whole of break speculating on what Dumbledore would teach Harry. Ron thought it most likely to be spectacular jinxes and hexes of the type the Death Eaters would not know. Hermione said such things were illegal even though they would probably just be really rare and harder for the Death Eaters to fight against and really every weapon would be useful in this war so why not use everything you've got, and thought it much more likely that Dumbledore wanted to teach Harry advanced Defensive magic. Ron insisted that that's basically exactly what he said only worded differently. Hermione told him where he could stick it. All three of them agreed that it would probably be something actually useful and practical and not just involve a lot of guesswork and forcing Harry to figure things out on his own when there were people dying left and right every day and surely Dumbledore would actually spell shit out for people as clearly as possible for once. Unfortunately, none of them could keep a straight face at that one and they parted ways laughing hysterically.

* * *

If Snape didn't want anyone to have his old Potions textbook, why'd he leave it in the cupboard for anyone to find? Surely he would've cleaned out the classroom completely before he left, he seems the type to be obsessive like that and highly possessive of his own things.

* * *

"Anyone tell me what this one is?"

Slughorn indicated the cauldron nearest the Slytherin table. Harry raised himself slightly in his seat and saw what looked like plain water boiling away inside it.

Hermione's well-practiced hand hit the air before anybody else's. Slughorn pointed at her.

"It's Veritaserum, a colorless, odorless potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth," said Hermione. "Though apparently it isn't always reliable despite being a magical friggin' potion and is therefore never used when it would actually be super useful such as courts and things."

"Very good, very good!" said Slughorn happily.

* * *

"Amortentia doesn't really create _love_, of course. It is impossible to manufacture or imitate love. No, this will simply cause a powerful infatuation or obsession. It is probably the most dangerous potion in this room — oh yes," Slughorn said, nodding gravely at Malfoy and Nott, both of whom were smirking skeptically. "While Veritaserum can do significant damage to people's careers and reputations and occasionally matters of national security, and while Polyjuice presents a multitude of horrible things one can do while pretending to be someone else for a set period and have the person they're in disguise as take all the blame for whatever terrible crimes they commit, it is high time you were all given a lecture on the many consequences of date rape…"

* * *

Harry stirred counterclockwise, held his breath, and stirred once clockwise. The effect was immediate. The potion turned palest pink.

"How are you doing that?" demanded Hermione, who was red-faced and whose hair was growing bushier and bushier in the fumes from her cauldron; her potion was still resolutely purple.

"Add a clockwise stir—"

"No, no, the book says counterclockwise," she snapped.

"Hey, if it works, why knock it?" said Ron. "So add a clockwise stir after the other instructions?"

"Yeah, just the one after the first set."

"Brilliant."

"Ron, no!" cried Hermione. "We're supposed to follow the instructions!"

"Hermione, did hanging out with Luna last year teach you nothing about opening your mind a little?" said Harry impatiently. "Didn't listening to _Umbridge_ last year show you how sometimes it's not such a good idea to follow the "approved" method of doing things? Fuck, _Lockhart_ should've proven to you from the start that _you can't trust everything that's in a published book_._"_

"What are you trying to say, Harry?" said Hermione exasperatedly.

"I'm saying to actually try new ways of doing things, it won't kill you, _especially_ if it turns out to actually be better than what the official way is!" A joke was then cut because of song lyrics so if you want to giggle at a Starkid in-joke check out the AO3 version I guess.

* * *

Hermione's face became stonier with every word Harry uttered.

"I s'pose you think I cheated even though anyone who has ever received a second- or third-hand textbook in their lives have always used the notes and highlighted sections to their advantage so they wouldn't have to do as much work?" he finished, aggravated by her expression.

"Well, it does horribly clash with my 'do everything yourself' work ethic that I constantly undermine by helping you two write essays," she said stiffly.

"Why _is_ this so frowned upon this year?" asked Ron. "Harry's right, everyone with a used textbook does this…Is it 'cause he's hogging all this new information to himself and his own ability to discern this mysterious dude's handwriting?"

"I suppose I could've copied it out for the whole class…" Harry mused.

"NO WE MUST FOLLOW THE BOOK AT ALL TIMES BECAUSE BOOKS CAN NEVER BE WRONG EVER," said Hermione calmly.

"Here we go again," Ron muttered.

* * *

Harry bent low to retrieve the book, and as he did so, he saw something scribbled along the bottom of the back cover in the same small, cramped handwriting as the instructions.

"Having had five years' worth of work marked by him, how did Harry not recognize Snape's handwriting in Advanced Potion Making?" asked Benedict Clarke on Twitter one time. It's funny because he played super-young Snape in DH part 2.

* * *

_A/N: Congratulations Ravenclaw for winning the Pottermore House Cup, by the way. Means you get the first look at new information. Which means it'll be updating soon. With the END of a book. Where ALL the good information is if PoA taught us anything. Excitement maybe possibly hopefully?_

**_Review or the most obvious terrorist-ish plot in the history of forever will be happening right next to you but no one will listen to your increasingly relevant and on-point warnings._**


	3. Remember Kids, Cheating Is Awesome

_A/N: Anyone else read the latest Quidditch articles on Pottermore? I'm actually excited about a Quidditch competition none of us will ever see, 's weird, isn't it? Of course I'd've loved some actual concrete character or world-building info, but seeing what Ginny and Rolf and Viktor and possibly a couple other cameos are doing these days pre-Epilogue is still kinda nice._

**Disclaimer:** Dracarot did math for me so I wouldn't fuck it up horribly, everyone say thank you. And apparently I managed to sneak in one last line from Harry Potter and the Half-Assed Parody, which you all still need to check out if you haven't yet. Get on that shit. Shoebox Project is also a thing that is good. _Star Trek III: The Search For Spock_ and To Boldly Flee are fun sci-fi things if you're into that. _Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory_ is _not_ a sci-fi movie but you should still check it out because it's a classic. And Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince is...okay, I guess...?

* * *

"You understand him, I'm sure, Harry?" said Dumbledore quietly.

"Yes, of course," said Harry, slightly nonplussed. "Why can't Ogden—?"

But as his eyes found the dead snake on the door again, he suddenly understood.

"He's speaking Parseltongue?"

"Very good," said Dumbledore, nodding and smiling.

"Do you want me to translate for you, sir?"

"That's very considerate of you, Harry, but at some point I must've taught myself the language; it might've been said in an interview that's buried on the internet somewhere, but as it is that's really the only explanation for why I never ask you to translate for me."

"Alrighty then."

* * *

"I think that will do, Harry," said Dumbledore. He took Harry by the elbow and tugged. Next moment, they were both soaring weightlessly through the darkness, until they landed squarely on their feet, back in Dumbledore's now twilit office.

"I recognize that locket that girl was being strangled with," said Harry at once. "It was when we were cleaning out the drawing room at Grimmauld Place, I remember none of us could open it…"

Harry trailed off, for Dumbledore was staring at him, looking more surprised than Harry ever remembered seeing him. His expression turned serious as he quickly said, "Summon Kreacher at once, Harry."

"Er…okay?" Harry cleared his throat nervously. "Kreacher!"

And then Harry and Dumbledore got the truth about Regulus out of Kreacher and Dumbledore suggested Harry open the locket with Parseltongue and then he destroyed the locket with Gryffindor's sword and because Harry saw it destroyed he then knew how Horcruxes could be destroyed and Dumbledore recognized the cave from Kreacher's descriptions so he stopped trying to look for that one so he helped Harry figured out what and where the others might be therefore narrowing the field considerably so everything the following year would be five thousand times easier. All was well.

* * *

Harry had received no mail since the start of term; his only regular correspondent was now dead and although he had hoped that Lupin might write occasionally, he had so far been disappointed. Most of that disappointment stemmed from never once indicating to Lupin that he would've appreciated being written to and not bothering to send anything to Lupin himself, not even taking into account whatever he was doing for the Order these days, so it was really no surprise that nothing was happening.

* * *

"Stan Shunpike, a Death Eater?" said Harry, remembering the spotty youth he had first met three years before. "Admittedly he seemed to have a rather low opinion of Muggles when I talked to him that one time, but I'm still rather disinclined to believe it of him."

* * *

When they left the Gryffindor table five minutes later to head down to the Quidditch pitch, they passed Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil. They were then reminded of the two girls' surnames and felt better about themselves for having gained this vast wealth of knowledge.

* * *

"We met on the train, in old Sluggy's compartment," he said confidently, stepping out of the crowd to shake Harry's hand. "Cormac McLaggen, Keeper."

"You didn't try out last year, did you?" asked Harry, taking note of the breadth of McLaggen and thinking that he would probably block all three goal hoops without moving. "I'd know this because obviously I was on hand at tryouts last year and not in detention with the Evil Toad of Evil at the time, of course."

"I was in the hospital wing when they held the trials," said McLaggen, with something of a swagger. "Ate a pound of doxy eggs for a bet."

"Right," said Harry. "That indicates to me that you are more concerned about showing off than you are about the team, and your attitude indicates that you would do something similar again for a lark with no thought as to how you being ill for whatever stupid thing you plan to do next would affect the team, practice, or actual matches. I will not stand for an attitude like that on my team and must kindly ask you to leave the pitch now."

It took a well-placed Bat Bogey Hex courtesy of Ginny to get McLaggen to stop strangling Harry.

* * *

Did Harry flat-out ignore the rule that says first-years aren't allowed on the House team since he himself had been a first year? Also why didn't he make sure only Gryffindors were playing when he first split everyone into groups, or even back when they first started applying for the team?

* * *

"If you ask me," said Harry quietly," McLaggen looks like he _was_ Confunded this morning. And he was standing right in front of where you were sitting."

Hermione blushed.

"Oh, all right then, I did it," she whispered. "But you should have heard the way he was talking about Ron and Ginny! Anyway, he's got a nasty temper, you saw how he reacted when he didn't get in — you wouldn't have wanted someone like that on the team."

"No," said Harry. "No, I suppose that's true. Which is why I have the right to deny potential players if I don't like their attitude." He rubbed his eyes under his glasses.

"What are you two doing?" demanded Ron, reappearing in the doorway to the Great Hall and looking suspicious.

"Nothing," said Hermione at the same time Harry said, "We have to rehold tryouts."

"…What," said Ron flatly.

"McLaggen _was_ Confunded on that last shot," said Harry, motioning toward Hermione, who had turned scarlet. "We're gonna have to rehold tryouts. I'm sorry, mate," he said quickly as Ron's face turned stormy, "but this is the last book I'll get to play Quidditch and I want Gryffindor to do well. McLaggen won't mesh well with the team so I probably won't choose him for Keeper anyway, but I think I might have to rehold tryouts for _all_ the positions just in case something similar happened with all the other players."

"Oh, I'm not mad at _you,"_ said Ron dangerously. "I understand perfectly. I understand that one of my best friends didn't have any faith in me whatsoever and felt the need to cheat because she didn't think I could beat McLaggen on my own."

"That's not it, that's not it at all!" said Hermione desperately. "It had nothing to do with you, I just didn't want him to even be considered after what he was saying about you and Ginny!"

"And I _wasn't_ about to consider him, we've been through this," said Harry tiredly. "I need to go talk to McGonagall about supervising the new tryouts. Hermione, I'm banning you from the pitch, and it'll be up to McGonagall whether or not you'll even be able to come to matches."

"Oh come on!" said Hermione angrily. "It's just a game, you can't possibly be taking it this seriously!"

"These guys just went through job interviews and you either faked Ron's drug test or sabotaged McLaggen's," said Harry matter-of-factly. "Nothing you did was in the right here."

* * *

…The spell's nonverbal, how the hell did the Marauders figure out how to cast it, did they steal Snape's book one time or what.

* * *

"Maybe your dad did use it, Harry," said Hermione, "but he's not the only one. We've seen a whole bunch of people use it, in case you've forgotten. Dangling people in the air. Making them float along, asleep, helpless."

Harry stared at her. With a sinking feeling, he too remembered the behavior of the Death Eaters at the Quidditch World Cup. Ron came to his aid.

"That was different," he said robustly. "And that family wasn't even asleep, I don't even know what you're talking about. The Death Eaters were abusing it anyway. Harry and his dad were just having a laugh. Every spell can be abused. You can use the Levitation Charm to make feathers float or make something really heavy fall on someone's head, I proved that five years ago. You can use _diffindo_ to cut a rope or fix a book, or you could potentially use it on someone's jugular probably. We can use Memory Charms on Muggles to keep our world a secret or possibly help a victim of some traumatic event through their PTSD maybe, or you can be Gilderoy Lockhart. It depends entirely on the user. Harry and his dad are/were not that terrible and you know it. You don't like the Prince, Hermione," he added, pointing a sausage at her sternly, "because he's better than you at Potions—"

* * *

ERMAHGERD ERNIE'S LAST NAME IS MACMILLAN SOMEONE WRITE THIS DOWN.

* * *

"Hey, Harry," said Ginny, "I've also been mistaken for an owl since I'm supposed to give you this."

It was a scroll of parchment with Harry's name written upon it in familiar thin, slanting, piercing blue-eyed handwriting.

"Thanks, Ginny…It's Dumbledore's next lesson!" Harry told Ron and Hermione, pulling open the parchment and quickly scanning its contents.

"Dumbedore's giving you lessons?" said Ginny incredulously. "Been keeping that quiet, haven't you?"

"Er…"

"Piss off, Ginny," said Ron shortly.

"Excuse me," said Ginny, glaring at her brother, "but I was at the Ministry too, you know."

"No, Ginny, seriously, piss off," said Harry nervously.

Ginny stared at him.

"Well fine, then," she said stiffly, striding away. And then she stayed with Dean and Harry had a sadface. See, look at his sadface. :'( It is a sadface.

* * *

…Exactly where is Filch jabbing people with the Secrecy Sensor?

* * *

"The headmaster is away until Monday, Potter," said Professor McGonagall, looking surprised.

"Away?" Harry repeated angrily.

"Yes, Potter, away!" said Professor McGonagall tartly. "But anything you have to say about this horrible business can be said to me, I'm sure!"

"No it can't," Harry replied immediately. "I haven't forgotten when we tried to come to you about the Philosopher's Stone and you just brushed us off, Professor. If you don't mind, I'll wait until someone who will actually listen to important information gets back."

"TWELVE BILLION POINTS FROM GRYFFINDOR!"

"What, for telling the truth? Thanks, Professor Umbridge."

* * *

"That's enough!" said McGonagall as Hermione opened her mouth to retort, looking furious. "Potter, I appreciate you telling me about this suspicious behavior we told you to report to us, but we cannot actually do anything about anyone merely acting suspiciously if we don't have proof of them actually doing anything, and that includes keeping a closer eye on him to ensure that this suspicious behavior does not lead to any other attempted murders or possible break-ins."

"Well thank you for wasting our time, Professor."

"You're quite welcome, Mr. Potter."

* * *

"It wasn't a very slick attack, really, when you think about it," said Ron, casually turfing a first year out of one of the good armchairs by the fire so that he could sit down. "The curse didn't even make it into the castle."

"Yes it did," said Hermione, prodding Ron out of the chair with her foot and offering it to the first year again. "The necklace is inside the castle right now."

"Too bad it was never stolen and an attempt was never made to try using it again," said Harry.

"_Too bad?!"_ cried Ron and Hermione together.

"Yeah, dropped plot thread."

"Oh. Yeah."

* * *

"I shall take all appropriate measures to investigate anyone who might have had a hand in Katie's accident," said Dumbledore. "I will not, however, actually take any preventative measures, in the hopes that I might be able to save whoever's doing this, putting the entire castle at risk in the process, since the needs of the few outweigh the needs of the many."

"More like the needs of the plot outweigh the needs of the logic," Harry muttered.

"Now you're catching on!" said Dumbledore, beaming brightly.

* * *

"He only gave her ten galleons?" said Harry indignantly.

"If she sold the locket around the year 1926," said Dracarot, "and assuming that the galleon was still worth five pounds, plus also assuming that wizarding inflation stayed roughly concurrent with Muggle inflation in Britain, then in 1996 that would be roughly 316 galleons, seven sickles, and nearly eighteen knuts, or £1,582.24. This is still pathetically low but not as pathetically low as you probably think."

"Oh, okay, thanks," said Harry.

* * *

"Well, we named him just as she'd said, it seemed so important to the poor girl, but no Tom nor Marvolo nor any kind of Riddle ever came looking for him, nor any family at all, for I suppose no one ever wanted to adopt him despite him being very bright, handsome, and well-behaved when adults are actually paying attention. I assume the moral here is that it's better to be raised in an abusive foster environment rather than in an orphanage where you're at least fed and clothed properly."

"Makes sense," Dumbledore agreed, nodding sagely. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind."

* * *

"My mother can't have been magic, or she wouldn't have died," said Riddle, more to himself than Dumbledore.

"Wizards die too, Tom," said Dumbledore gently. "It could be that both of your parents were magical, or perhaps only your mother."

"How can wizards die?" Riddle demanded. "We have magic! That should make us invincible!"

"I'm afraid that there are limits as to how far magic can take us. No doubt you will learn a great deal about them at Hogwarts. One of those limits is that we are as mortal as any other human being. We may live half a century or so longer, but we will all still die one day."

"…You're sure?" Riddle said grumpily.

"Quite," said Dumbledore. "Older and wiser wizards than myself have done extensive research on the subject over the centuries. They have confirmed that nothing can be done."

Riddle nodded imperceptibly. He went on to graduate Hogwarts and immediately became an Unspeakable after graduation, studying in the Death Chamber until his own peaceful death in his sleep in 2042. All was well.

* * *

"All the details are on the second piece of parchment in your envelope," said Dumbledore. "You will leave from King's Cross Station on the first of September. There is a train ticket in there too. And apparently it's a long-standing tradition to refuse outright to tell orphaned Muggle-raised children how to actually get on the platform, so good luck figuring out that shit. Not that it's hard, though, it just would've been courteous to tell you, and I _thought_ I was the nice guy."

Riddle nodded. Dumbledore got to his feet and held out his hand again. Taking it, Riddle said, "I can speak to snakes. I found out when we've been to the country on trips — they find me, they whisper to me. I have no idea how I know that's special since even Potter'll think it's normal until he's told otherwise, but apparently I know that's a bit off even for wizards because I'm psychic like that."

* * *

"You were going to ask me?" asked Ron, in a completely different voice.

"Yes," said Hermione angrily.

"Bull."

"No, roast beef, but I haven't got it quite right yet."

* * *

Ron stop slut-shaming Ginny. Fuck, internet stop slut-shaming Ginny for that matter, we only have evidence of her and Dean snogging and we don't even know if she and Michael got that far, and even if they did who cares, it's the fucking twenty-first century, calm your fucking shit.

* * *

"Conditions look ideal," said Ginny, ignoring Ron. "And guess what? That Slytherin Chaser Vaisey — he took a Bludger to the head yesterday during their practice, and he's too sore to play! Mostly because of the possible brain damage that he's probably still in the hospital wing for! Hooray! And even better than that — Malfoy's gone off sick too!"

"_What?"_ said Harry, wheeling around to stare at her. "Does that mean we're playing Hufflepuff instead again? Why wasn't I told about this, I'm the bloody captain!"

"…What're you talking about," said Ginny slowly. "Why would we play Hufflepuff instead."

"'Cause that's exactly what happened three years ago when Malfoy couldn't play, and now you're telling me _two_ players can't fly today, so why isn't the same thing happening again this year."

"Because shut up."

* * *

"Oi, Harper!" yelled Harry in desperation. "How much did Malfoy pay you to come on instead of him?"

He did not know what made him say it and he did not know why he never used this as evidence for his Malfoy-Is-A-Death-Eater theory, but Harper did a double-take; he fumbled the Snitch, let it slip through his fingers, and shot right past it. This creates the image in my head that he actually had his fingers on it, so even after Harry made a great swipe for the tiny, fluttering ball and caught it, shouldn't flesh memories indicate that Slytherin actually won?

* * *

"I want a word with you, Harry." Hermione took a deep breath. "You shouldn't have done that. You heard Slughorn, it's illegal."

"Yes, because messing with people's minds to affect the actual team line-up is completely fine, is it?" demanded Ron.

* * *

Harry did not see how he could possibly explain to Hermione that what she had done to offend Ron was kiss Viktor Krum, not when the offense had occurred so long ago, other than to take her aside and tell her that Ginny had let it slip to Ron only recently that she had kissed him and he's been insanely jealous ever since and that's why he'd been treating her so horribly. Yep, absolutely no way to explain it. -_-

* * *

At last, Harry extricated himself from Romilda Vane, who was hinting heavily that she would like to go to Slughorn's Christmas party with him, by reminding her that she had insulted his friends and therefore he wanted nothing to do with her.

* * *

…We just got reminded what Romilda's full name is on the previous page, why are you doing it _again_. Also I think we know what Lavender's last name is by now…

* * *

"_Oppugno!"_ came a shriek from the doorway.

Harry spun around to see Hermione pointing her wand at Ron, her expression wild: The little flock of birds was speeding like a hail of fat golden bullets toward Ron, who yelped and covered his face with his hands, but the birds attacked, pecking and clawing at every bit of flesh they could reach.

"Gerremoffme!" he yelled, but with one last look of vindictive fury, Hermione wrenched open the door and disappeared through it. Harry thought he heard a sob before it slammed.

"You know," Ron commented idly, still swatting the birds away and trying to keep their talons out of his eyes, "I love how she shoots these things at me and I totally deserve it, but I bet you anything that if she started snogging McLaggen and I tried shooting these things at her, I'd be seen as a monster and people would be congratulating her on moving on."

"Most likely," muttered Harry, wiping some stray feathers off his robes.

* * *

Large groups of girls tended to converge underneath the mistletoe bunches every time Harry went past, which cause blockages in the corridors that the teachers and prefects did nothing to disperse on pain of detention like they would in any normal school; however, Harry's frequent nighttime wanderings AS WELL AS HIS MAGICAL MAP OF MAGIC MAGICNESS had given him an unusually good knowledge of the castle's secret passageways, so that he was able, without too much difficulty, to navigate mistletoe-free routs between classes.

* * *

"But I thought all the owls were being searched. So how come these girls are able to bring love potions into school?"

"Fred and George send them disguised as perfumes and cough potions," said Hermione. "It's part of their Owl Order Service."

"You know a lot about it."

Hermione gave Harry the kind of nasty look she had just given his copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_.

"It was all on the back of the bottles they showed Ginny and me in the summer," she said coldly.

"And you're not telling Filch to confiscate all perfumes coming in by owl and making all the girls go to Madam Pomfrey for cough potions like everyone else like a responsible prefect because…?"

"Look," sighed Hermione, "Secrecy Sensors detect jinxes, curses, and concealment charms, don't they? They're used to find Dark Magic and Dark objects. They'd have picked up a powerful curse, like the one on that necklace, within seconds. But something that's just been put in the wrong bottle wouldn't register — and anyway, love potions aren't Dark or dangerous—"

"_You're_ the one who initially pointed out that they're date rape drugs!" said Harry angrily. "And there's no way you can convince me that Fred and George wouldn't use concealment charms, they're wizard-raised purebloods, they would _not_ be that smart!"

* * *

"Hi, Harry!" said Romilda VANE, the moment he had climbed through the portrait hole. "Fancy a gillywater?"

Hermione gave him a "what-did-I-tell-you?" look over her shoulder.

"No thanks," said Harry quickly. "I don't like you much."

"Well, take these anyway," said Romilda, thrusting a box into his hands. "Chocolate Cauldrons, they've got firewisky in them. My gran sent candies with alcohol in them to a fourteen-year-old-girl because the UK is WAY more lax about alcohol than the US even to this extent apparently, but I don't like them so I'm trying to dump them on someone I hardly know instead of sharing them with my friends which is not suspicious in any way."

"No," said Harry firmly. "The first thing you did when we met is insult two of my friends. Unless you track down Neville and Luna yourself and apologize to both of them, I. Don't. Want. Anything. To do. With you. Understand?"

"…I don't get it."

"Why am I not surprised. HEY HERMIONE, HOW DO MAGICAL RESTRAINING ORDERS WORK."

* * *

"Oh yes," said Hermione in a choked voice, taking her things and turning away quickly to hid the fact that she still owned a pencil case in Hogwarts of all places.

* * *

Parvati positively beamed. Harry could tell that she was feeling guilty for having laughed at Hermione in Transfiguration except that's really not what that means and he totally read that wrong because that never happens. Ever. He looked around and saw that Hermione had picked her bag back up and left for the library, like any _sane_ victim of bullying would.

* * *

"Oh, I've just escaped — I mean, I've just left Cormac," said Hermione. "Under the mistletoe," she added in explanation, as Harry continued to look questioningly at her.

"Serves you right for coming with him," he told her severely.

"Oh, I see," said Hermione flatly, her hands on her hips. "So if I'd been raped it would've served me right as well."

"I never said that—"

"You said exactly that."

* * *

Ooooooh, this is new! For the first time in forever, Harry's going to sneak about in his Invisibility Cloak in order to overhear important information! THIS HAS NEVER HAPPENED BEFORE HOORAY FOR NEW LITERARY TECHNIQUES.

* * *

"It is an act that is crucial to success, Draco!" said Snape. "Where do you think I would have been all these years, if I had not known how to act? Now listen to me! You are being incautious—"

"There's no way that's a real word," Malfoy cut in.

"It totally is."

"I don't believe you."

"But it is, though."

"No way."

"Look it up."

"…Holy shit you're right."

"Told you."

* * *

It saddens me that the more I read these books, the less upset I am at the realization that certain characters are going to die.

* * *

"Has it occurred to you, Harry," said Mr. Weasley, "that Snape was simply pretending—"

"Pretending to offer help, so that he could find out what Malfoy's up to?" said Harry quickly. "Yeah, I thought you'd say that. But can we at least agree that Malfoy definitely _is_ up to something and that even Snape thinks he attacked Katie?"

"That's dumb and you're dumb for thinking it," said Lupin unexpectedly.

* * *

"Oh, I've been underground," said Lupin. "Almost literally. That's why I haven't been able to write, Harry, because somehow I know about your offhand thought that was only mentioned once despite not receiving any kind of signal from you that you would like me to do so and despite never doing anything of the kind before."

* * *

Ron fell asleep almost immediately, but Harry delved into his trunk and pulled out his copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_ before getting into bed. There he turned its pages, searching, until he finally found, at the front of the book so it can't have taken that long and also he was lucky he hadn't sliced it off when he swapped covers, the date that it had been published. It was nearly fifty years old. Neither his father, nor his father's friends, had been at Hogwarts fifty years ago. However, they had been at Hogwarts _within_ the past fifty years. Feeling elated, Harry put the book next to his pillow, determined to show it to Lupin tomorrow to see if he recognized the handwriting.

* * *

Harry woke with a start to find a bulging stocking lying over the end of his bed. Sometimes I don't think JKR is entirely aware of what she's writing, or how far her audience has fallen.

* * *

…What would've happened if Percy and Scrimgeour were in fact Polyjuiced Death Eaters? 'Cause…'Cause I'd like to see that fic.

* * *

"No, I don't think that'll work," said Harry pleasantly. "You see, I don't like some of the things the Minsitry's doing. Locking up Stan Shunpike, for instance. Refusing to release anyone else who very obviously isn't working for Voldemort. All the laws making it near impossible for werewolves to get jobs, thereby practically driving the lot of them directly to Voldemort as you've given them no other choice. The complete disregard for Muggles that you show off each and every time you Memory Charm one. Refusing to keep close tabs on relatives of Death Eaters in case they're planning anything nefarious for the sake of revenge. Constantly expecting me and Dumbledore to solve all your problems for you. Never formally apologizing for your complete inaction last year that put the entire country into jeopardy and also set back the children of the wizarding world's ability to defend themselves by an entire year. _Continuing to have Dolores Umbridge in your employ,"_ Harry added, dropping his pleasant tone for a moment and narrowing his eyes at Scrimgeour before smiling cheerfully again. "Just to name a few," he concluded brightly.

* * *

_A/N: For a while, I've been tossing around the idea where Harry goes back into the Burrow for a quick second, drags out Remus, and has him outline exactly what needs to be done so the werewolf community can start to be treated like people again, saying that if Scrimgeour follows Remus's directions to the letter he will start to do small appearances to show support for the Ministry while Scrimgeour sputters in protest the whole time but eventually and very reluctantly accepts Harry's terms. Dunno if I'll ever do anything with it or if I'll just sneak it in somewhere else, but…enh, it's out there if anyone wants it._

**_Review or Harry'll eavesdrop on you under the Invisibility Cloak. And no one will be surprised._**


	4. How Was This Book Published

_A/N: Been working steadily on Deathly Hallows for a while, and in my desperation to procrastinate as much as I can on The Chapter That Must Not Be Mentioned I switched to Kingdom Hearts and wrote the entire Tarzan section. I'm not sure why. Probably because I watched the movie again recently, even though when I watched Aladdin again with a friend I had no desire to do that section so I have no idea...Both movies are still fantastic, there's just something about Disney's 2D animation that I adore and miss greatly._

**Disclaimer:** Both Dracarot and AllSolsDay helped with ideas for this one. References were also stolen from A Very Potter Musical, Two Best Friends Play, _Monty Python's Flying Circus,_ Bonds Beyond Time Abridged, Rifftrax, and a book that I cannot believe got published with the massive and unbelievable continuity mistake within seven pages of each other, this is the worst book ever. :P

* * *

"Baubles," said Ron confidently, when they reached the Fat Lady, who was looking rather paler than usual and winced at his loud voice.

"No," she said.

"What d'you mean 'no'?"

"There is a new password," she said. "And please don't shout."

"But we've just come back from McGonagall's, how could she not've told us, I'm a bloody prefect for Merlin's sake, how're we supposed to—?"

* * *

Dumbledore listened to Harry's story with an impassive face. When Harry had finished he did not speak for a few moments, then said, "Thank you for telling me about this highly suspicious behavior of another student, Harry, but I suggest you put it out of your mind. I do not think that the main suspect in this case, that even Professor Snape thinks attacked Katie Bell and could possibly be planning to attempt to murder more people or commit any other nefarious acts, is of great importance."

"…What the fuck is wrong with you," said Harry incredulously.

"Many things, Harry, many things."

* * *

Harry sat there feeling mutinous. How would it be if he refused to permit the change of subject, if he insisted upon arguing the case against Malfoy? As though he had read Harry's mind, _which he probably did because he can fucking do that,_ Dumbledore shook his head.

* * *

"Mommy," asked some random eight-year-old reading this for the first time, "what does 'bitch' mean?"

"It's a bad word to call a lady or really anyone and I don't want you repeating it unless you drop something heavy on your foot."

"M'kay…Mommy, what does 'slut' mean?"

"…Oh dear god, you're never reading these books again."

* * *

"But how come the Ministry didn't realize that Voldemort had done all that to Morfin?" Harry asked angrily. "He was underage at the time, wasn't he? Wouldn't he still have the Trace on him? Wouldn't they have detected it immediately?"

"All this hasn't yet been retconned," Dumbledore explained. "The Trace hasn't quite been invented yet, thus we're working with exceptionally unclear and inconsistent information for the sake of plot advancement."

"Oh brilliant."

* * *

"Sir, is it true that Professor Merrythought is retiring?" asked Riddle.

"Tom, Tom, if I knew that I couldn't tell you! For some reason!" said Slughorn, wagging a reproving, sugar-covered finger at Riddle, though ruining the effect slightly by winking.

* * *

"Look sharp, Tom," said Slughorn, turning around and finding him still present. "You don't want to be caught out of bed out of hours…_out of_ hours, shouldn't it be _after_ hours, is that another Britishism, what even is…but yeah, you don't want that, even though you're a prefect so you could just claim you were on patrol or whatever…"

* * *

"And so, for the first time, I am giving you homework, Harry," said Dumbledore. "It will be your job to persuade Professor Slughorn to divulge the real memory, which will undoubtedly be our most crucial piece of information of all."

Harry stared at him.

"So Harry gets ordered to spend awkward amounts of alone time with a strange adult," said AllSolsDay.

"…Dumbledore's a pimp," said iheartmwpp. AllSolsDay died laughing.

* * *

Hermione recited at top speed: "Golpalott's-Third-Law-states-that-the-antidote-for-a-blended-poison-will-be-equal-to-more-than-the-sum-of-the-antidotes-for-each-of-the-separate-components."

"Precisely!" beamed Slughorn. "Ten points for Gryffindor! Now, if we accept Golpalott's Third Law as true…"

Harry was going to have to take Slughorn's word for it that Golpalott's Third Law was true, because he had not understood any of it. Nobody apart from Hermione seemed to be following what Slughorn said next either. MAYBE IF THEY HAD SOME KIND OF ADVANCED MATH OR SCIENCE CLASSES THAT WEREN'T ELECTIVES IT WOULD'VE HELPED SINCE THIS IS APPARENTLY A WORLD WHERE THAT WOULD ACTUALLY COME IN SUPER USEFUL. FUCK'S SAKE.

* * *

Hermione had left her stool and was halfway toward Slughorn's desk before the rest of the class had realized it was time to move, and by the time Harry, Ron, and Ernie returned to the table, she had already tipped the contents of her phial into her cauldron and was kindling a fire underneath it.

"It's a shame that the Prince won't be able to help you much with this, Harry," she said brightly as she straightened up. "You have to understand the principles this time. No shortcuts or cheats!"

"Shortcuts and cheats?" Ernie demanded, looking up. "You mean Potter's been using shortcuts and cheats this whole time?!"

"…Oops."

"Thanks, Hermione," Harry and Ron spat at her in unison.

"I forgot I was sitting next to him today!" Hermione protested.

"Actually, I'm kind of wondering how I remained ignorant of everything this whole time," Ernie admitted, "I've been sitting right next to you three all year…"

* * *

Neither Ron nor Hermione was at all sympathetic when Harry told them of this disastrous interview. Hermione was still seething at the way Harry had triumphed without doing the work properly, at least until Harry had told her that this was the first time he had ever been exclusively compared to his mother, that up until now everyone only compared him to his father, and he didn't want Slughorn to stop so he wanted to stay at the top of the class using any means necessary. Hermione softened a bit at that, but then she asked why he couldn't just ask Slughorn to tell him about his mother, to which Harry replied that he could hardly do that now that Slughorn was so furious with him. Hermione then told him he should've thought of that beforehand. Harry, finding this extremely unhelpful, walked away from her in frustration.

* * *

Meanwhile, the Hogwarts library had failed Hermione for the first time in living memory. Aside from that time she couldn't look up anything about the Chamber of Secrets, and during the preparations for both the First and Second Tasks two years ago…

* * *

"As you know, it is usually impossible to Apparate or Disapparate within Hogwarts. The headmaster has lifted this enchantment, purely within the Great Hall, for one hour, so as to enable you to practice. Hopefully no one will see this as an opportunity to notify anyone outside of the castle with malicious intent that now would be a perfect time to Apparate directly into the castle and cause a shit-ton of damage upon a group of unsuspecting and unguarded students, as it is entirely possible that a certain Dark wizard might've hired someone within this age group specifically so he could be notified when this chance would present itself. But that would be smart on the part of both parties and fuck that noise."

* * *

Ernie's last name is Macmillan. Also Ernie's last name is Macmillan. Also also Dean's last name is Thomas. Also also also…actually I'm not too sure that Susan Bones (from Hufflepuff) was mentioned yet this book so I'm not as annoyed at that one…

* * *

FOR FUCK'S SAKE WE KNOW WHAT THE MAP IS YOU BARELY RECAP ANYTHING ELSE AND IF YOU DO YOU'RE CLEVER ABOUT IT WHAT THE BALLS GODDAMMIT.

* * *

Why would Harry hide the map so deep in his trunk, it's just an old bit of parchment, sticking it so far down just makes it more suspicious. Hell, why would he try to conceal it from Neville, everyone in the DA should know about it since Harry used it to help everyone avoid Umbridge multiple times the previous year.

* * *

If Malfoy had planned ahead he should've at least tried for a poison that couldn't be countered by a bezoar or any simple antidote. There had to be a vial of _something _in the Room of Hidden Things, and if we go with the movie granting him access to random birds he could've tested them out, or could've used school owls or something. Slughorn said bezoars don't work on everything and Hermione said there were poisons without antidotes, that could've been foreshadowing, and _especially_ after the lesson where Harry won with the bezoar Malfoy should've gone at least slightly more in-depth. Except Ron would've died so never mind, why am I talking.

* * *

"Well, I don't think it's Quidditch, bit I think there's a connection between the attacks," said Hermione quietly.

"How d'you work that out?" asked Fred.

"Well, for one thing, they both ought to have been fatal and weren't, although that was pure luck. And for another, neither the poison nor the necklace seems to have reached the person who was supposed to be killed. Of course," she added broodingly, "that makes the person behind this even more dangerous in a way, because they don't seem to care how many people they finish off before they actually reach their victim."

"…So it's pretty clear that there's no saving whoever's doing this?" asked Ginny.

"Not likely."

"No, but Dumbledore has to try and save them, though," said Harry.

"Man, fuck that guy," muttered Ginny. She was promptly decapitated by Hagrid.

* * *

"Oho!" Filch wheezed. "Out of bed so late, this'll mean detention!"

"No it won', Filch," said Hagrid shortly. "They're with me, aren' they?"

"And what difference does that make?" asked Filch obnoxiously.

"I'm a ruddy teacher, aren' I, yeh sneakin' Squib!" said the _half-giant_, firing up at once.

"Also I'm a prefect," said Hermione. "I'm vaguely sure that counts for something since I could be patrolling or whatever, it's unclear."

* * *

McLaggen kept up a constant stream of hints that he would make a better permanent Keeper for the team than Ron, and that now that Harry was seeing him play regularly he would surely come around to this way of thinking too; he was also keen to criticize the other players and provide Harry with detailed training schemes, so that Harry finally kicked him off the team because of his attitude and lack of actual teamwork, replacing him with Seamus, who was quicker on a broom than both Ron and McLaggen even if he wasn't always as accurate. When McLaggen furiously tried to hex Harry for his decisions he was jinxed heavily by the rest of the team, Ginny's Bat Bogey Hex being the strongest offender, and Professor McGonagall banned him from the pitch when he tried to curse Harry in his sleep.

* * *

"Divination is turning out to be much more trouble than I could have foreseen, never having studied the subject myself," said Dumbledore. "See what I did there? I cannot ask Firenze to return to the forest, where he is now an outcast, nor can I ask Sybill Trelawney to leave. Between ourselves, she has no idea of the danger she would be in outside the castle. She does not know — and I think it would be unwise to enlighten her — that she made the prophecy about you and Voldemort, you see."

"Does the wizarding world not have any form of a witness protection program or something similar?" asked Harry.

"We do, actually. It involves me hiring people as new teachers. Why do you think Sybill, Firenze, Severus, and Hagrid are all still here? Hell, I'm not sure when I hired Remus in relation to Sirius's escape; as I believed him to be a Death Eater at the time, it may well be that I persuaded Remus to come to the castle for his own safety, since after Sirius finished you off I was sure he'd be next. And you don't even WANT to know what Pomona got up to in her youth…"

* * *

"Once it became clear that Mr. Weasley was going to make a full recovery, however, I would have hoped that you returned to the task I set you. I thought I made it clear to you how very important that memory is. Indeed, I did my best to impress upon you that it is the most crucial memory of all and that we would be wasting our time without it."

"Well I do apologize, sir, but considering that two friends of mine had been attacked by that point, one of them being practically a sibling to me, all of my mental efforts went toward trying to figure out why this keeps happening in order to try and prevent more people that I care about from being nearly killed, or maybe even _actually_ killed. I know the staff is doing all it can, but I've done well on my own in the past and was hoping I'd be able to continue to do so." Harry paused. "Plus Quidditch keeps up moral, Apparition lessons are impossible, and homework just continued to get more complicated, so I do hope you'll forgive me for having let it slip my mind." He paused again. "Speaking of Quidditch, I took a Bludger to the head recently, that might've affected something."

"All mere excuses," said Dumbledore quietly. "I do hope that our time together meant more to you than this—"

"I think I might be falling in love with Ginny Weasley," Harry said quickly.

"Well why didn't you say so in the first place?" cheered Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling for the first time all book. "That's splendid news! Of course I forgive you for forgetting, nothing's more important than love!" He wiped a tear from his eye, smiling brightly.

"…I wish I could just beat you over the head with a fucking steel pipe right now."

"Well that's not gonna happen today—"

"Isn't it?"

"—since you don't have a steel pipe."

"Isn't it?"

* * *

The house-elf returned within minutes, followed by a tall young man Harry had no difficulty whatsoever in recognizing as Voldemort. He was plainly dressed in a black suit, even though he should despise everything related to Muggles at this point so he should probably have been wearing robes…

* * *

"Voldemort modified her memory, just like he did with Morfin!"

"Yes, that is my conclusion too," said Dumbledore. "And, just as with Morfin, the Ministry was predisposed to suspect Hokey—"

"—because he was a house-elf," said Harry. He had rarely felt more in sympathy with the society Hermione had set up, H.E.R.P.E.S. You're welcome.

* * *

…If it's well-known that memories can be tampered with in this wild and crazy world, how can the Wizengamot knowingly convict _anyone?!_

* * *

Voldemort sneered. "If you do not want to give me a job—"

"Of course I don't," said Dumbledore. "And I don't think for a moment you expected me to. Nevertheless, you came here, you asked, you must have had a purpose."

"Yeah, to drop off a Horcrux in a place that's important to me and perhaps scout out another item I can use. It boggles the mind that you never thought of that first one, the castle's fucking huge, dude."

* * *

"Was he after the Defense Against the Dark Arts job again, sir? He didn't say."

"Oh, he definitely wanted the Defense Against the Dark Arts job," said Dumbledore. "The aftermath of our little meeting proved that. You see, we have never been able to keep a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for longer than a year since I refused the post to Lord Voldemort."

"Wha…so _he_ cursed the position?" said Harry in shock.

"Indeed he did."

"…And you, with all your infinite powers, couldn't break the curse?"

"My powers are not, in fact, limitless, Harry," said Dumbledore patiently. "And I must admit that the curse has been useful in terms of, ah, getting rid of quite a few undesirable people in a vaguely humane way. Gilderoy Lockhart was one such person."

"Yeah, get people like that around kids, totally…But the curse is also the reason Lupin couldn't stay on to teach, isn't it? If he could've kept his job, we wouldn't've had the fake Moody bringing back Voldemort and the entire Umbridge fiasco could've been avoided!"

"However," Dumbledore cut him off, "I never would have been able to hire Remus in the first place if there hadn't been an opening."

"…Why not get rid of the class altogether," asked Harry slowly.

Dumbledore's gaze grew steely.

"Harry, you of all people should realize how vital—"

"No, no, you don't understand," said Harry, holding up a hand to stop him. "Say you abolish Defense Against the Dark Arts class from the syllabus entirely. Make it publicly known that you're doing it. After that's done, set up an entirely new class with maybe a slightly altered lesson plan, or maybe just create a lesson plan that works and that the teacher has to stick to so they don't make everything terrible like Lockhart and Umbridge did. Name it something completely different, like, I dunno, the Anti-Dark Forces class, or How To Defend Yourself Against A Man Armed With A Banana."

"Suppose he's got a bunch," said Everard.

"Shut up," said Harry.

"Supposin' he's got a pointed stick," muttered Phineas.

"Shut up!" Harry called up to him. He turned back to Dumbledore. "After renaming the class, it might be a decent idea to make one of the unused classrooms the new classroom for this new class, and maybe get a new office and sleeping quarters for the professor as well, just in case. Then hire Lupin back and see what happens."

"Maybe after the war's over," said Dumbledore unconcernedly.

"…You mean after Voldemort's dead and the curse is automatically lifted regardless?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Lupin could be dead by then, though. _You_ could be dead by then; hell, I might've _graduated_ by then!"

"Remus has no interest in returning to the school after the danger he put you and your friends in."

"…But we really want him teaching us again," said Harry morosely.

"And even if Voldemort was still only semi-corporeal, I would not make the changes you suggested," Dumbledore went on.

"Why not?" asked Harry.

"Because your plan makes logical sense."

"…Which is why you're _not_ doing it."

"Precisely," said Dumbledore serenely."

"I hope when I grow up I get to be as fucking clueless as you."

* * *

"Don't start, Hermione," said Harry. "If it hadn't been for the Prince, Ron wouldn't be sitting here now."

"He would if you'd just listened to Snape in our first year," said Hermione dismissively.

"I wouldn't've remembered it even if I had," Harry countered. "Not everyone has your staggeringly amazing memory, Hermione. If the Prince hadn't _reminded_ me about bezoars, Ron. Would not. Be sitting here right now."

"As much as I dislike the idea, I'm obligated to tell you two to just snog already," muttered Ron.

* * *

Having wasted a lot of time worrying aloud about Apparition, Ron was now struggling to finish a viciously difficult essay for Snape that Harry and Hermione had already completed. Harry fully expected to receive low marks on his, because he had disagreed with Snape on the best way to tackle dementors, but considering he had fought off over a hundred dementors at once with the Patronus Charm, and in fact didn't know any other method of tackling dementors _except_ for the Patronus Charm and really didn't understand how augreys came into it, he didn't much care.

* * *

Page 450, US edition: Hermione let out a little shriek; Ron spilled ink all over his **freshly completed essay,** and Harry said, "Kreacher!"

Page 457, US edition: They finished their breakfast in silence. Hermione set off immediately for Ancient Runes; Ron for the common room, **where he still had to finish his conclusion on Snape's dementor essay;** and Harry for the corridor on the seventh floor and the stretch of wall opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy teaching trolls to do ballet.

How was this book published.

* * *

"Women," Ron said wisely to Harry, "they're easily upset."

"And yet," said Hermione, coming out of her reverie, "I doubt you'd find a _woman _who sulked for half an hour because Madam Rosmerta didn't laugh at their joke about the hag, the Healer, and the _Mimbulus mimbletonia."_

"Sure you could. Gay people exist, Hermione, I don't know if you're aware."

"…Fair, but I highly doubt a woman would have told such a tasteless joke as that—"

"I heard it from Alicia after one of our Quidditch practices last year."

"…Fuck it, you win," said Hermione tiredly.

"Always do," said Ron, smirking.

* * *

Why didn't even Hagrid use Hedwig, why did he have to use a student as well. And why have all but one of them been girls…

* * *

"Bad luck, mate," said Harry, "but you'll pass next time — we can take it together."

"Yeah, I s'pose," said Ron grumpily. "But _half an eyebrow!_ Like that matters!"

"…It kind of would be odd if a Muggle saw a line of red hair hovering six feet above the ground and not moving…"

"…Grr-face."

"Yeah, I know…"

* * *

"So, Harry — you going to use the Felix Felicis or what?" Ron demanded.

"Yeah, I s'pose I'd better," said Harry. "I don't reckon I'll need all of it, not twenty-four hours' worth—"

"Slughorn said it'll only last twelve hours," Hermione corrected him.

"…Well it still can't take all night…I'll just take a mouthful. Two or three hours should do it."

* * *

"Be brave like my mother, Professor…Push a baby out through your genitals…"

* * *

Harry could feel the Felix Felicis wearing off as he crept back into the castle. The front door had remained unlocked for him — and really, with all the heightened security Hogwarts is supposed to have right now you'd think an Auror would be in charge of that instead of leaving it to the apparently forgetful caretaker, and also that there would be at least two Aurors guarding the doors at all times anyway — but on the third floor he met Peeves and only narrowly avoided detection by diving sideways through one of his shortcuts. By the time he got up to the portrait of the Fat Lady and pulled off his Invisibility Cloak, he was still questioning why he so desperately had to avoid detection when he was wearing a friggin' _Invisibility Cloak_ when the worst case scenario would've been him having to break out his Bloody Baron impression again.

* * *

Still questioning the planning of potentially leaving small children locked out of their dorm rooms when extremely bad things are obviously and constantly happening outside of them…

* * *

"Well," said Slughorn uncomfortably, "you must understand that the soul is supposed to remain intact and whole. Splitting it is an act of violation, it is against nature."

"But how do you do it?"

"By an act of evil — the supreme act of evil. By committing murder. Which might be debatable bit there you have it. Killing rips the soul apart. It is not natural to kill someone of your own species, which is why wild animals kill each other for food or territory or mating rights hourly. It's not natural at all. Unless there's a war on, in which case killing the enemy is the most natural thing in the world."

"…Kay…"

* * *

"Merlin's beard, Ton!" yelped Slughorn. "Seven! Isn't it bad enough to think of killing one person? And in any case…bad enough to divide the soul…but to rip it into seven pieces…You'd end up with 1.5625 percent of your soul, and Merlin forbid you accidentally make another one, you'd only end up with .78125 percent of your soul left…Is that really worth it to you?"

"Yep."

"…Well have fun then, I guess."

"Radical."

* * *

"And the Horcruxes could be anything?" said Harry. "They could be old tin cans or, I dunno, empty potion bottles…"

"You are thinking of Portkeys, Harry, which must be ordinary objects, easy to overlook," said Dumbledore.

"Exactly, wouldn't you want people to easily overlook whatever you're trying to conceal from them?"

"…You're assuming Voldemort is in any way intelligent."

"This is true, never mind."

* * *

"So when the prophecy says that I'll have 'power the Dark Lord knows not,' it just means — love?" asked Harry, feeling let down.

"Yes — just love," said Dumbledore. "You see, Harry, Voldemort was conceived under the effects of a love potion. This ironically robbed him of the ability to feel love."

"…So every child conceived under the influence of a date rape drug, whose father leaves which seems more than likely and whose mother dies in childbirth which unfortunately still happens even in the best of hospitals, is going to become a homicidal maniac with absolutely no hope of redemption and the foster or adoption systems shouldn't even try to help them whatsoever since their futures are already forfeit?Or at least every child conceived under the influence of a date rape drug won't be able to feel love or empathy or anything else that's actually good, and again with their parents or the foster and adoption systems that shouldn't even bother trying because there's no point?"

"…That's really not what I was trying to say at all."

"Except that's exactly what you said."

"Well it wasn't intended."

"It rarely is."

* * *

"But it comes to the same—"

"No, it doesn't!" said Dumbledore, sounding impatient now. Pointing at Harry with his black, withered hand, he said, "You are setting too much store by the prophecy!"

"But," spluttered Harry, "but you're the one who put so much emphasis on it at the end of last year! Sirius _died_ over this prophecy, you can't tell me I'm setting too much store by it, _you're_ the one who's been overhyping it so much!"

* * *

"If Voldemort had never murdered your father, would he have imparted in you a furious desire for revenge?"

"Wait, so you're saying I wouldn't want revenge for my mother's death?"

"Pfft, just because she gave birth to you and loved you so much that she literally died so that you might live would be no reason to want revenge for her death! That would imply she served any purpose other than giving birth to you and literally dying so that you might live! She was just a simple literary device, Harry, don't spare her a second thought."

"Remind me why JKR misses you the most, I honestly can't think of a single reason."

* * *

"Harry, have you any idea how few wizards could have seen what you saw in that mirror?"

"…Am I the only wizarding orphan or the only one who's lost loved ones or the only lonely abused child that doesn't want to be alone anymore and longs for a proper family?"

"Precisely!"

"I…somehow doubt that…"

* * *

_A/N: Ernie MACMILLAN is the new Lee JORDAN, I swear..._

**_Review or the word "slut" will be slipped into more children's books. Like ones that actually fall under that genre, for instance. Maybe Clifford..._**


	5. Just Stick The Wand In His Fucking Mouth

_A/N: Feel like sharing what I posted on Facebook yesterday:_

_["I didn't ask — I didn't want — VOLDEMORT KILLED MY PARENTS!" Harry spluttered. "I got famous because he murdered my family but couldn't kill me! Who wants to be famous for that?"]  
HAPPY HARRY POTTER DAY, EVERAYBODAY! XD_

_Tee hee, it's so great that a community that's gone over the franchise so many times that they really have a great understanding of the characters and what their greatest wants and desires are and thus behave accordingly. :D_

**Disclaimer:** All of the references this time! Along with Dracarot's help, lines and other shoutouts were shamelessly used from Rifftrax, the first two _Lord of the Rings_ movies, _Kingdom Hearts, Doctor Who,_ both _Airplane!_ movies, Two Best Friends Play, A Very Potter Musical, To Boldly Flee, _Young Frankenstein,_ an old flash animation on Newgrounds called Harry Potter and the Five Trials of Wit, Yu-Gi-Oh! The Abridged Series, and my least favorite book in the series that I am so thrilled to be done with, you don't even know.

* * *

You'd think Hogwarts would have some kind of Latin class so kids could learn what the incantation for their spells were mutilated from so that one day they might try creating spells on their own; it would certainly have helped Harry figure out that sectum means "having been cut" and semper means "always" according to the Harry Potter Wiki, and therefore would've made him realize that _maybe_ it wouldn't have been the best spell to use on a person.

* * *

…Why didn't Harry tell Snape about the book? He's in enough trouble, why not a bit more? Is this entire thing just to set up the location of the diadem for later, 'cause Harry almost seems out of character in this bit; him focusing on Slughorn finding out about him cheating at Potions when he's just nearly murdered Draco Malfoy seems ever so slightly odd to me. Hell, why wouldn't Snape have followed him, why would he wait in the bathroom.

* * *

"Do you know what I think, Potter?" said Snape, very quietly. "I think that you are a liar and a cheat and that you deserve detention with me every Saturday until the end of term. What do you think, Potter?"

"I-I think I deserve far worse for attempting to murder a fellow student — and nothing else — sir," said Harry, still refusing to look into Snape's eyes.

"…While I wholeheartedly agree with you on this, Potter…pardon me, I just threw up in my mouth a little…this _is_ Hogwarts and a Gryffindor has only _attempted_ to murder a Slytherin, and since not a thing has changed in the past twenty-one ears there is little I can do in the way of punishment."

"That sounds horribly messed up, sir."

"You have no idea."

* * *

"Are you telling me," said Hermione, "that you're going to go back—?"

"And get the book? Yeah, I am," said Harry forcefully. "Listen, without the Prince I'd never have won the Felix Felicis. I'd never have known to save Ron from poisoning, I'd never have—"

"—got a reputation for Potions brilliance you don't deserve," said Hermione nastily.

"Oh, so your own standing as second-best in class is worth more than my life, is it," snapped Ron. "That's brilliant, that is, I'm so glad we now know how much you truly value our friendship."

* * *

He pulled out a card from one of the topmost boxes with a flourish and read, _"James Potter and Sirius Black. Apprehended using an illegal hex upon Bertram Aubrey. Aubrey's head twice normal size. Double detention."_ Snape sneered. "It must be such a comfort to think that, though they are gone, a record of their great achievements remains…"

"I get to learn more about my father and godfather?" said Harry, his face lighting up. "That's awesome, I _adore_ finding out more about them! Thanks so much, Professor!"

"…"

* * *

I've always been weirded out about Ginny's lack of focus at the end of the chapter when Harry kissed her. It's like the only thing that mattered was Harry and Ron's reactions. It said nothing about Ginny looking surprised or radiant or ABOUT FUCKING TIME or whatever, and I really think it should've, Harry shouldn't have taken it for granted that she would like him back because what if she didn't. No, she didn't pull away, but sometimes people don't when they're surprised and she's still got plenty of time to hex him after he's done.

* * *

What, you mean Dumbledore didn't tell Harry the full story about something? I'm _shocked!_

* * *

"Harry, I promised you that you could come with me, and I stand by that promise," said Dumbledore, "but it would be very wrong of me not to warn you that this will be exceedingly dangerous, because anything involving any kind of danger will be an entirely new experience for you seeing as you've never had to go through anything even remotely dangerous in your life before now."

* * *

Harry let out a yell of mirthless laughter.

"He hated my dad like he hated Sirius! Haven't you noticed, Professor, how the people Snape hates tend to end up dead?"

"You have no idea of the remorse Professor Snape felt when he realized how Lord Voldemort had interpreted the prophecy, Harry. I believe it to be the greatest regret of his life and the reason that he returned—"

"Nothing you say will convince me that he felt regret for this," Harry spat. "The entire six years I've known him he has expressed nothing but contempt for my father and joy at the thought that he was dead. You have _no right_ to just dismiss this like this when I found out that _he's responsible for my parents' death,_ that's like asking me to just forget Pettigrew betrayed them and Voldemort actually killed them, there is _no way_ you'll ever make me forgive him for that."

"…Oh fuck it, he was in love with your mother and was upset about _her_ upcoming demise."

"…Well now I'm convinced. See, was that really so difficult?"

"Yes, you see, I _promised_ Severus I wouldn't tell anyone."

"And you also _promised_ that you would investigate anyone who was behaving suspiciously yet you've ignored every single one of my warnings when you _know_ I'm right and when two students nearly died in the process. You also _promised_ that you'd tell me everything, and yet I find out today about these extra little tidbits you've conveniently kept hidden from me. I doubt anyone has too much faith in your promises anymore, Professor; I sure as hell don't. What else aren't you telling me, not that I'd trust you much more if you told me that was it this time?"

"I'm gay, I was in love with Grindelwald, we were planning to subjugate Muggles together before I changed my mind, I may have killed my own sister, and you're a Horcrux."

"Again, was that so ha—wait, what?"

* * *

"Do you think that I have once left the school unprotected during my absences this year? I have not. Tonight, when I leave, there will again be additional protection in place. Please do not suggest that I do not take the safety of my students seriously, Harry."

"I do apologize, Professor, but that is exactly what I'm suggesting," Harry said matter-of-factly. "I repeat: Two students have almost died this year alone, and when I'm coming to you about suspicious behavior you're outright dismissing it even though that's exactly what you told us to do in order to keep us safe. Even Snape suspected that Malfoy was behind Katie's attack at least, and, though you claim to still trust him, you won't do anything to investigate. It would take us less than ten minutes to go over to the Room of Requirement right now — you can interrogate Trelawney on the way—"

"_Professor_ Trelawney, Harry."

"Whatever, and once we get inside we can make sure that no more attacks happen ever and you could even try to 'save' Malfoy if he's still in there. Hell, we could even conveniently spot the diadem while we're there, getting rid of one more Horcrux even as we're about to go hunt down the locket. _Why _are you so opposed to this?!"

"Shut up, there's no time."

"I loathe you."

"I love you too."

* * *

"Very good. Then I wish you to go and fetch your Invisibility Cloak and meet me in the entrance hall in five minutes' time. Five points from Gryffindor for not keeping it on you at all times like I told you at the beginning of the year, I don't care that the plot demanded that you speak to Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger before you go. And yes, I realize that it takes roughly twenty minutes to get anywhere in this ginormous castle, so you're just going to have to run rather quickly, aren't you."

* * *

"Professor," said Harry quietly, as the gates at the bottom of the drive came into view, "will we be Apparating?"

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "You can Apparate how, I believe?"

"Yes," said Harry, "but I haven't got a license. Also I've sort of been wondering why we're not taking Fawkes along with us so he can teleport both of us without need for worry over my lack of skills and so he can use his amazing powers to heal us if anything happens."

"Of course we're not taking Fawkes with us!" said Dumbledore indignantly. "We have to keep him as underutilized as possible, don't you know anything?"

"…Can we at least take a Portkey so we can go right back into the castle in case of an emergency?"

"Now you're just talking nonsense."

"Fuck this, I'm joining Voldemort."

* * *

"You will not object to getting a little wet?" said Dumbledore quietly.

"No," said Harry.

"Heh, that's what she said," Dumbledore sniggered.

"…Right…But I still can't swim, sir."

"Ah. Right. Half a moment." Dumbledore quickly cast a Bubble-Head Charm over Harry, and Harry's vision was suddenly distorted. "Better?" came Dumbledore's slightly muffled voice.

Harry nodded, feeling the bubble surrounding his head bob with the movement.

"Then take off your Invisibility Cloak — there is no need for it now — and let us take the plunge."

* * *

"Professor?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Do you think we're going to have to go into the lake?"

"Into it? Only if we are very unfortunate."

'You don't think the Horcrux is at the bottom? I mean, if I had a Horcrux, I would drop it at the bottom of the _ocean._ Or I would put it in a pyramid with King Tut and all of his troops. Or I would blast it into space with a monkey who knew nothing about Horcruxes."

"Oh no…That might've been intelligent as it would be harder to find…I think the Horcrux is in the _middle."_

And Dumbledore pointed toward the misty green light in the center of the lake.

* * *

"Is…Is this boat safe? Not to nitpick, but do you really want to get in a boat that sank to the _bottom_ of the lake?"

* * *

"There are dead things! Dead faces in the water!" said Harry.

"Yes," said Dumbledore placidly, "and it's a touch difficult to argue against those who insist that this whole thing is just a massive rip-off when moments like this keep happening."

* * *

"There is nothing to fear from a body, Harry, any more than there is anything to be feared from the darkness."

"Bodies can carry diseases, though, and darkness can take over your heart and turn you into a Heartless in addition to being the perfect hiding place for the Vashta Nerada."

"See, this is why we don't have television or video games at Hogwarts."

* * *

"Nearly there," said Dumbledore cheerfully.

"Cool," said Harry. "While we're waiting, can I ask you a question?"

"Obviously, you have just done so," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling, "but yes, you can. What is it?"

"It's an interrogative statement designed to test knowledge, but that's not important right now," said Harry. "How exactly are we going to destroy the Horcrux once we get to it? How can a Horcrux even _be_ destroyed, anyway, I can't believe we never once went over this."

"That question is completely irrelevant, else I would've told you about it while we were still having our lessons."

"…Where you could've sent me down to the Chamber of Secrets to pick up basilisk fangs at any time so I would always have one or two on me in case I needed them."

"Precisely. It would have been an enormous waste of time and would not have made the next year's events easier on anyone in any way."

"…I don't feel good, I feel stupid."

* * *

"Do not disturb the water," said Dumbledore again as Harry climbed out of the boat.

* * *

"You think the Horcrux is in there, sir?"

"Oh yes." Dumbledore peered more closely into the basin. "Bit obvious, really; it might've been sarter to take your suggestion, Harry, and just let it sink to somewhere in the bottom of the lake at random, or else sneak it away in a crack in the wall, so that whoever tries the most obvious spot in this cave, i.e. this basin, would go mad and die without actually finding the Horcrux, but I believe we have established over the course of this year that Voldemort's just not that smart."

* * *

"Why can't I drink the potion instead?" asked Harry desperately.

"Because I am much older, much cleverer, and much less valuable," said Dumbledore.

"Yes!" said Harry. "Exactly! Cleverer! You'd be able to tell what kind of potion it was, be more able to help me through its effects, and could easily get both me and the Horcrux out when we're done, especially since you're the only one who knows how to destroy it!"

But Dumbledore had already begun drinking the potion.

"…Why do I talk to people?" asked Harry in exasperation, not even trying to knock the potion from Dumbledore's hand to see if it would even work.

* * *

"Professor Dumbledore?" said Harry, his voice strained. "Can you hear me?"

Dumbledore did not answer. His face was twitching as though he was deeply asleep, but dreaming a horrible dream. His grip on the goblet was slackening; the potion was about to spill from it. So Harry let it because that right there was half a goblet of potion Dumbledore didn't have to drink, and when Harry had to force-feed him the rest of the potion he made sure to have a great deal of it spill from Dumbledore's mouth so he wouldn't be entirely poisoned. _IT! COULD! __**WORK!**_

* * *

"Sir, I'm trying, I'm trying!" said Harry desperately, but he did not think that Dumbledore could hear him; he had rolled onto his side and was drawing great, rattling breaths that sounded agonizing. _"Aguamenti — Aguamenti — AGUAMENTI!"_

The goblet filled and emptied once more. And now Dumbledore's breathing was fading his brain whirled in panic.

"I…I _could_ produce the water directly into Dumbledore's mouth without using the goblet…or…I COULD STILL USE THE GOBLET TO GET THE WATER OUT OF THE LAKE WITH THE CORPSES AND MONSTERS!"

Harry considered his options carefully.

"_WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"_ he cheered as he dove directly into the lake and was promptly mauled to death.

* * *

Malfoy stepped forward, glancing around quickly to check that he and Dumbledore were alone. His eyes fell upon the second broom.

"Who else is here?"

"A question I might ask you—"

"Hang on, I just answered my own question," said Malfoy, feeling around the edge of the tower with his hand outstretched, his wand still pointed at Dumbledore with his other hand.

"…What are you doing?" said Dumbledore, a note of worry creeping into his voice.

"Don't give me that, I know Potter has an Invisibility Cloak—aha!" Malfoy cried as he whipped the cloak off Harry's immobilized form. "…Why is he petrified?"

"Er…"

"Man, why would anyone even do that?" said Malfoy, an ugly smile on his face. "Who's the stupid idiot now?"

"You are!" said Dumbledore feebily.

"Your mum is," countered Malfoy. "For giving birth to you. Healer's like 'Why did you give birth to this stupid idiot, you're so dumb, I hate you.'"

"…You weren't there!"

"I don't need to have been there."

* * *

"Very good," murmured Dumbledore. "So the Death Eaters were able to pass from Borgin and Burkes into the school to help you…"

"Yes, that is exactly what I just finished describing to you," said Malfoy impatiently, but Dumbledore didn't seem to hear him.

"…A clever plan, a very clever plan…and, as you say, right under my nose, as well as the noses of the Ministry who probably should've stationed Aurors around such an obvious spot of Death Eater activity, or else tried to shut down all of Knockturn Alley due to its reputation, I mean honestly…"

* * *

"I appreciate the difficulty of your position," said Dumbledore. "Why else do you think I have not confronted you before now? Because I knew that you would have been murdered if Lord Voldemort realized that I suspected you. Though it is rather hard to get into Hogwarts these days if one does not have a Vanishing Cabinet, so I suppose I could have had one of my Order members take your mother into protective custody while I took you aside and discussed your options and during the holidays I could've suggested that you two remain hidden together, in which the attacks on Miss Bell and Mr. Weasley and our current situation needn't have happened at all…Welp, hindsight's twenty-twenty!" Dumbledore concluded cheerfully.

* * *

"Now, about tonight," Dumbledore went on, "I am a little confused about how and why it happened. Surely you knew where my office was and could figure out the password was based off a sweet of some kind generally?"

"Of course I could've!" said Malfoy. "And don't call me Shirley!"

"Then why didn't you just come up to my office and use the Killing Curse on me? I would have been quite unprepared for that particular curse to be attempted on me by a student."

"…I—"

"I'm just trying to figure out exactly why you needed this entourage, Draco," said Dumbledore. "Did Voldemort insist on having witnesses? Did you anticipate Order interference? Or are they here so that they can talk you into going through with your task?"

"Shut up!" shouted Malfoy, his face blotchy, his wand shaking.

"Furthermore, how did so many know to come tonight? Was Mr. Borgin waiting on standby in the shop for a message to come through the cabinet, or did you just use the Dark Mark? How does that even work, I thought you could only summon Voldemort that way and only he could use it to summon who he wants at any time. Or did you use Rosmerta again, I'm legitimately curious. Hell, why didn't you _require_ the room to give you a way into and out of the castle in the first place, it can do that, you know."

"Oh God damn, come on. I just wanna stab you to death. Just let me stab you to death."

* * *

You know, if werewolves had enhanced senses like most fanfics claim, Greyback would've been able to smell Harry next to him on the tower. Notice how he _never did._ Just sayin'.

* * *

"Harry! We heard a noise, and someone said something about the Dark Mark—" began Ernie _**MACMILLAN.**_

"Should've checked your coin, asshat!" yelled Harry, knocking two boys aside as he sprinted toward the landing and down the remainder of the marble staircase.

* * *

"Coward, did you call me, Potter?" shouted Snape. "Your father would never attack me unless it was four on one, what would you call him, I wonder?"

"Maybe he needed the other three with him before he could take you on in the first place!"

"…Huh. Okay, now I feel a whole lot better about myself and my life."

* * *

"No!" roared Snape's voice and the pain stopped as suddenly as it had started. Harry lay curled on the dark grass, clutching his wand and panting; somewhere overhead Snape was shouting, "Have you forgotten our orders? Potter belongs to the Dark Lord — we are _not_ to use this opportunity to take Potter straight to him while he is injured and vulnerable! Trust me on this! Go! Go!"

* * *

"Malfoy came out of the room about an hour after we started keeping watch," said Ginny. He was on his own, clutching that awful shriveled arm—"

"His Hand of Glory," said Ron. "Gives light only to the holder, remember?"

"Yes," said Harry, "once again I remember Malfoy _not_ buying it and me _not_ telling you he was even looking at it, how can we even be aware of this thing, Ginny should've just described it and I would've recognized the description, then we'd have halfway decent continuity."

* * *

"But will we have a single pupil after this?" said Slughorn, now dabbing his brow with a silken handkerchief. "Parents will want to keep their children at home and I can't say I blame them. Personally, I don't think we're in more danger at Hogwarts than we are anywhere else, but you can't expect mothers to think like that. They'll want to keep their families together, it's only natural. The fathers won't give a shit one way or the other, of course, for it's certainly not natural for _them_ to care about their children, who would ever think it was, amirite?"

"I agree with all of that," said McGonagall. "And in any case, it is not true to say that Dumbledore never envisaged a situation in which Hogwarts might close. When the Chamber of Secrets reopened he considered the closure of the school — and I must say that Professor Dumbledore's murder is more disturbing to me than the idea of Sytherin's monster living under the bowels of the castle…"

"…You think the murder of _one dude_ is more terrifying than an unknown entity that can travel absolutely anywhere in the castle and murder _multiple small children_ at will unless they're very, very lucky to not be looking directly at it?" said Sprout slowly, looking at McGonagall in disgust. "Do you even _listen_ to the shit that comes out of your mouth?!"

"I didn't hear you, what?"

"Jesus fucking shit Christ…"

* * *

"Well, it's just that I was sort of right about the Half-Blood Prince business," Hermione said tentatively.

"And I was right about Malfoy being behind Katie's attack, about him being a Death Eater, about him being up to something really bad in the Room of Requirement, about Voldemort giving him a job to do, about him coercing Crabbe and Goyle into it, about Snape trying to help him, about Snape being evil all along, and about both of them always being on Voldemort's side this whole time," said Harry nastily. "I think I win. And I also think the both of you should listen to my insane theories from now on, since we know my instincts are nearly always right."

Both Ron and Hermione fell to the floor, laughing hysterically.

"Yep, thought as much…"

* * *

"Voldemort uses people his enemies are close to. He's already used you once without even knowing it, and that was just because you're my best friend's sister, which was just sheer luck on his part. Think how much danger you'll be in if we keep this up. He'll know, he'll find out, especially since Snape's reporting directly to him all the time now and I _know_ that he knows. Voldemort'll try and get to me through you."

"…Even when people break up in real life, more often than not they're on good terms and there's usually some lingering affection even years later," said Ginny. "We'd have to have a very public, very violent break-up if anyone's going to believe it's as over as you'd like You-Know-Who to think it is. You'd have to really sell that you're disgusted at the thought of my existence in order to convince any of the Death Eaters that I can't be used against you, and we both know you're kind of a rubbish liar. We also both know that the Death Eaters would use a complete stranger to get to you and you'd fall for it, and I know for a fact that you're taking Ron and Hermione with you and we _know_ they can be used against you. This argument is kind of bullshit."

"No, shut up, this is what we're doing."

"Please dine on many dicks. Seventeen, perhaps."

* * *

"I think I might go back to Godric's Hollow," Harry muttered. He had had the idea in his head ever since the night of Dumbledore's death. "For me, it started there, all of it. I've just got a feeling I need to go there. And I can visit my parents' graves, I'd like that."

"How the hell do you know what Godric's Hollow even is when no one has once mentioned that place to you in the whole series," said Ron.

* * *

_A/N: So DH has been happening quicker than I thought it would; earlier this week I skipped ahead to The Silver Doe because I didn't want to deal with The Chapter That Shall Not Be Mentioned just yet, and wrote the whole thing minus a gag or two I just thought of like ten minutes ago but I had to post this so I'll add that in a sec. And then the next morning there was a doe in our yard, eating our plants and looking up whenever Teddy started crying for food. Our yard was pretty flooded, too, don't really know why she chose to eat there of all places, must've been tough to balance, especially since the poor babby looked like one of her hind legs was hurt, there was a dark stain on it and she was limping a little. It was sad but there wasn't really anything we could do aside from unintentionally offering up our garden as breakfast, so she munched for a while and then fucked off. 'S just weird as hell that I'm reading/writing about a doe Patronus and then an actual one appears...And then I took an HP personality quiz for secondary characters and got Tonks, and the next day there's a rabbit in our yard. Imma go read up on Sirius and dogs and omens of death next, see what happens. ;)_

_The final DH parody'll be up near the end of June/beginning of July, I'm planning, and then I may or may not do Beedle the Bard before I'm done until the Fantastic Beasts movies come out, if I even do those, they might be really good, who knows. (And if I do it'll be on AO3 and not here but you know...)_

**_Review or you'll die of apparent thirst because no one thought to cast _aguamenti_ in your fucking mouth._**


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